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HE NEEDED NOT THE SPECTACLES 
OF BOOKS TO BEAD NATURE; HE 
LOOKED INWARDS, AND FOUND HEE 
THERE. 

JOHN DBTDEK 



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IQ, 







THE 

PHILOSOPHY 



OF 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE 

DELINEATING IN 

§>tbm Pttiibrib anir Jftffjr jg assays, 

SELECTED FBOM HIS PLAYS, 

THE MTJLTIEOBM PHASES OE THE 
HUMAN MIND. 

COLLATED, ELUCIDATED, AND ALPHABETICALLY 
AEEANGED. 

&ztavfo lE&itiaxi. 



"'Tis tlie mind that makes the body rich." 



LONDON: 
LOCKWOOP & CO., 

STATIONEES' HALL COTJET, LUDGATE HILL, E.C. 
MDCCCLX. 

THE BIGKET OF TEANSLATIOjS" IS BESEEYED. 



»*>* 






©ntcrci at Stationer^ f^alL 



London: 
J. & W Riueii, Printers, 14, Bartholomew Close. 



®0 % §^a4r*r. 



If ever a people had reason to be proud of 
their Literature, it is ourselves : no other 
nation has approached us in the grandeur 
and number of our writers ; and of these the 
Author of the following pages shines pre- 
eminent. 

The age in which he appeared was re- 
splendent with the light of the Reformation : 
at no other period were there so many great 
minds floating on the surface ; and amongst 
the host, our bard had the largest and most 
comprehensive soul. All nature presented 
herself to his imagination ; and he drew 
from her whatever portraits he pleased, or 
those which best answered his purpose at the 
moment: every one he took was perfect in 



vi PREFACE. 

its way, both as to head and heart, dropping 
exactly into the place assigned for it by the 
wonderful power of his pen. 

That which makes his works appear more 
extraordinary, is the knowledge we possess 
that his genius did not receive the advan- 
tage of either an extended, or high educa- 
tion ; indeed, we may gather, that the 
principal part of it must have been his 
experience after he arrived in London ; the 
probability being, that he neither read, nor 
even saw, very many books, until he was 
thrown upon the wide world, and left to 
struggle with it in the Metropolis. Then 
commenced the outpourings of his imagina- 
tion and fancy, flowing like rivers of pure 
silver, destined to irrigate the world of man 
to the latest posterity. 

All the minds he pourtrayed, his soul ap- 
peared to enter into for the time being ; 
whether in the spiritual Ariel, — the inimit- 



PREFACE. vii 



able FalstafF, — the deformed humanity of 
Caliban, — the perfection of female purity in 
Miranda, — the proud but noble patrician in 
Coriolanus, — the true matron in Volumnia, 
—the brave soldier in Antony, — the East- 
ern queen in Cleopatra, — the human fiend 
in Iago, — the kingly tyrant in Eichard, — 
the princely metaphysician in Hamlet, or 
the over-confiding friend in Othello ; these, 
and many others, stand out with a distinct- 
ness that no other pen ever in the like 
manner pourtrayed. 

It has been observed, that "none come 
near him in the number of bosom lines, — of 
lines that we may cherish in our bosoms, 
and that seem almost as if they had grown 
there, — of lines that, like bosom friends, are 
ever at hand to counsel, comfort, and glad- 
den us, under all the vicissitudes of life." 
Again, of the wonderful excellence of his 
plays we have no reason to believe that he 



Vlll 



PBEFACK 



was fully conscious : we know that he did 
not take the trouble of publishing his works, 
excepting that some of the single plays were 
printed, as books of the opera are at the 
present day, merely to help the play-goers 
to accompany the actors. 

His genius adapted itself with such nicety 
to all the varieties of ever-varying man, as 
to pourtray the mind of the times which 
the play elucidated, in the physiognomy of 
the characters. It has been remarked, that 
" although human passions are the same in 
all ages, there are modifications of them 
dependant on the circumstances of time and 
place, which Shakespeare always caught and 
expressed. He has thus given such a 
national tinge and epochal propriety to his 
impersonations, that even when one sees 
Jaques in a bag-wig and sword, one may 
exclaim, on being told that he is a French 
nobleman, ' This man must have lived at the 



PREFACE. ix 

time when the Italian taste was prevalent in 
France/ How differently does he moralize 
from King Henry, or Hamlet ! although 
their morality, like all morality, comes to 
pretty nearly the same conclusion." Indeed, 
it is as a Moralist and Metaphysician that 
Shakespeare shines pre-eminently; and he 
alone has thrown the wand of enchantment 
over these qualities of man, by the power 
of his Poesy, which, when they have been 
treated by more prosaic natures, often appear 
in such repulsive coldness, that the intellect 
refuses to feed in such dry pastures. Whereas 
with our mighty countryman, he handles the 
inmost recesses of the head and the heart in 
so sweet a manner, that the mind studies 
in his company, with the same pleasure that 
we feel, whilst enjoying the beauties of 
nature, in the lovely Springtide. 

Another writer has beautifully observed, 
that " no heart would have been strong 



PREFACE. 



enough to hold the woe of Lear and Othello, 
except that which had the unquenchable 
elasticity of Falstaff, and the Midsummer 
Night's Dream. He, too, is an example 
that the perception of the ridiculous does 
not necessarily imply bitterness and scorn. 
Along with his intense humour, and his 
equally intense piercing insight into the 
darkest and most fearful depths of human 
nature, there is a spirit of universal kind- 
ness, as well as universal justice, pervading 
his works; and Ben Jonson has left us a 
precious memorial of him, when he calls him 
' My gentle Shakespeare/ This one epithet 
sheds a beautiful light on his character : its 
truth is attested by his wisdom, which could 
never have been so perfect, unless it had 
been harmonized by the gentleness of the 
dove/' Again, — " The whole race of the 
giants would never pile an Ossa on this 
Olympus ; their missiles would roll back on 



PREFACE. xi 



their heads from the feet of the gods that 
dwell there. Even Goethe and Schiller, 
when they meddled with Shakespeare, and 
would fain have mended him, have only- 
proved what Voltaire and Dryden had proved 
before, that ' within his circle none can walk 
but he.' Nor when Shakespeare's genius 
passed away from the earth, did any one akin 
to him reign in his stead. Indeed, accord- 
ing to that law of alternation, which is so 
conspicuous in the whole history of litera- 
ture, it mostly happens that a period of ex- 
traordinary fertility is followed by a period j 
of dearth. After the seven plenteous years 
come seven barren years, which devour the 
produce of the plenteous ones, yet continue 
as barren and ill-favoured as ever." 

Of Shakespeare's relatives, our knowledge 
is comparatively scanty ; consisting of the par- 
ticulars which eminent antiquaries, actors, and 
commentators have since collected respect- 



xii PREFACE. 



ing them ; namely, that his father was of the 
middle class, and stood high in position and 
in the estimation of his fellow townsmen; 
and that his mother was descended from the 
ancient and honorable family of the Ardens : 
and subsequently we gather a few further 
particulars, from the dispositions of his will, 
which is deposited in the office of the Pre- 
rogative Court of Canterbury. Of his early 
life at Stratford we know but little, and of 
his daily life in London, still less. There 
can be no doubt but that such a mind must 
have been a social one, and loved by who- 
ever it came in contact with. We learn 
that he enjoyed high patronage ; his sympa- 
thies, in fact, were with the great, as well as 
with the humble : such a gentle mind could 
sympathize with all. 

We also know, that in comparatively few 
years he made sufficient money to retire 
upon ; and, faithful to the instincts which 



PREFACE. xiii 

usually govern man, lie returned to his 
native town to pass the remainder of his 
days ; investing his earnings in houses and 
lands, which at his death he demised to his 
family. 

We read again, " that little more than two 
centuries have elapsed since William Shake- 
speare conversed with our tongue, and trod 
the self-same soil as ourselves; and if it 
were not for the records kept by our Church, 
in its registers of births, marriages, and 
burials, we should at this moment be as 
personally ignorant of the ' sweet swan of 
Avon ' as we are of the old minstrel and 
rhapsodist of Meles. ,, 

That he, in a general sense, lived before 
his time, is proved by the circumstance that 
during his life, and for many years after his 
death, inferior dramatists outran him in the 
race of popularity : indeed, his genius might- 
be said to have slept for nearly a century, 



XIV 



PBEFACM 



, rcithout the many noticing that such a 
being had existed, or had left such mighty 
remains. 

It was not destined that our Author 
should participate, for any great length of 
time, of that retirement upon which he 
apparently had set his heart. The enjoy- 
ment of the heaven of his own mind, which 
he doubtless anticipated would fall to his 
share after retiring from the bustle of Lon- 
don, was shortened by his early death. 

His Will proves him to have died in the 
Christian Faith ; and this is worth specially 
noting, as proving the power of the Religion 
we profess, over the mind of one of whom it 
has been said, that " take him for all in all, 
we ne'er shall look upon his like again." 

It is hoped that little apology is required 
for producing the present volume, illustrative 
of the soul of Shakespeare. One virtue it 
will have, namely, to bring before many 



PEJEJFACK xv 

readers passages which they had possibly- 
overlooked in reading the plays, whilst the 
mind was occupied with the interest of the 
plot, and the characters. 

To others, who have not become largely 
acquainted with the works of our great 
countryman, it may perhaps lead to an 
early introduction. 

In conclusion, it must be understood, that 
the present selection of passages, and their 
arrangement, is not to be supposed as in- 
tended to bear upon either religion, govern- 
ment, politics, or social life at the present 
day. Since the time of our Author, all these 
have undergone great changes and revolu- 
tions, over which his writings have had little 
or no influence. The object and intention 
of the work is to give all the prominence 
possible to our countryman, as one of the 
great lights that have shone to illumine the 
earth, either as Moralist, Metaphysician, or 



xvi PREFACE. 



Poet ; many of whose ideas on such sub- 
jects are destined to glide down the stream 
of truth, as long as man continues to be 
cheered in his daily labours from her refresh- 
ing well-springs. 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE 



A ORE A T soul cannot suffer long ... 1 

A great man's death and epitaph 2 

Activity necessary to man's happiness 3 

A daughter's love 4 

A good cause fills both head and heart 5 
A good man rescued by a great one 

from his enemies 6 

A happy conscience the brightest of suns 8 

A man reaps ivhat he soivs 9 

A mind disturbed is a mind diseased 10 

A new ivay to pay old debts 11 

A noble nature at war with artifice ... ] 2 

A noble nature gone astray 13 

A truce in the heroic age 14 

A true friend rebukes where flatterers 

praise 14 

A virtuous wife and sister's omens 

may not be disregarded 15 

Admiration 16 

Admiration of beauty....: 17 

Affection 17 

Age and wisdom paying tribute to 

heroism 18 

Age discovering the canker worm 18 

Age guiding youth , 

h 



xviii CONTENTS. 



PAGE 



Agony of consciousness - . 19 

A 11 is not gold that glitters 21 

Analogy of human life 24 

Anathema against abuse of hospitality 24 

Anathema against murder 25 

Anathema of jealousy 26 

Anathema on self if guilty 27 

Anatomy of friendship 27 

Ancient Roman signs of troublous 

times 609 

An old sinner acting the character of 

virtue 28 

An over generous nature re-acting 

against itself 29 

Antagonism of the soldier and the 

priest 31 

Antagonism of the spleens 31 

Antecedents important 32 

Appearances support rank 33 

Art versus nature 34 

Assimilation of nature and character 34 
Avarice kills the soul, as intemperance 

kills the body 35 

Avoid engendering evil 35 

Avoid temptation 36 

A warm heart in the host doubles the 

value of the feast 37 



CONTENTS. xk 



PAGE 



BANE of civil dissensions 37 

Banishment contented 38 

Banishment not content 38 

Battery of an elderly sinner 39 

Bear and forbear 40 

Beauty and goodness in sorrow 40 

Beauty and virtues anger with ugliness 

and sin 41 

Beauty and virtue indignant at man's 

baseness 42 

Beauty a witch, much given to witch- 
craft 43 

Beauty, earth's conservator 43 

Beauty lives ivith kindness 44 

Beauty's portrait 45 

Beauty, virtue, fidelity, and principle, 

overcome by cunning flattery 46 

Beauty without principle 52 

Begetting a knowledge of human nature 52 

Begging a parent's prayers 53 

Better for the heart to relieve the head, 

than for the latter to break the former 53 

Better never to rise, than have to fall... 54 
Better take the evil with the good > than 

increase the former by further strife 55 
Beivare of creating jealousy in your 

superiors 56 



xx CONTENTS. 



PAGE 



Big hearts cannot descend to flattery . . 57 

Bitterness of parting 57 

Bitterness of parting 57 

Bravery of the Plantagenets 58 

CJESAR'S appreciation of himself 

unworthy of himself 59 

Calumny destructive 60 

Carnal friendship fleeting 61 

Catching a shrew in her own net 61 

Ceremony 63 

Challenge in the heroic age 64 

Chaotic effects of jealousy 66 

Character 67 

Character 67 

Character 68 

Character 68 

Character 68 

Character 68 

Character of a conceited hero 69 

Chastity 69 

Christian contentment 70 

Civil war a monster that breeds every 

crime 70 

Co-equal powers oft become antagonistic 71 

Combat between conscience and necessity 72 

Common fate of misfortune 74 



CONTENTS. xxi 



PAGE 

Conceit 74 

Conceit 74 

Condition of England in the middle 

ages 75 

Conditions influence ideas 75 

Confession of the braggart 75 

Confidence 76 

Conscience hardens with the progress 

of evil 76 

Conscience laid open 77 

Conscience 77 

Conscience when seared 77 

Conscience the proof of the immortality 

of the soul .... 78 

Consciousness of conscience 80 

Consideration and position should go 

hand-in-hand 80 

Constancy 81 

Contemn not your enemy 81 

Contrition, forgiveness, and expiation 81 

Courage of desperation 82 

Crooked back and crooked mind 83 

Cunning 85 

Cunning undermining genius 85 

Curse of unlaivful ambition 86 

DANGER of coquetting with evil 87 



xxii CONTENTS. 



PAGE 



Dawn of light 88 

Dearly is success bought by over mental 

anxiety 88 

Death 88 

Death not terrible when well approached 89 

Death of innocence and beauty 89 

Death often nearer the wealthy than the 

hardy 91 

Death of the ambitious man 91 

Death's changes 92 

Death's coldness and holiness 93 

Decision 94 

Decline of a nation . 94 

Demoralization of war 95 

Deprivation oft brings consciousness 

of worth 95 

Desperation of physical courage 95 

Destiny with and without grace 97 

Development of the reflective power ... 97 

Diners out 99 

Discretion the better part of valour ... 99 

Disease of the tongue 100 

Disobedience to God's laws brings its 

own punishment 100 

Distressful changes of humanity 101 

Distribution of Providence 101 

Divine grace the soul of beauty 101 



CONTENTS. xxiii 



PAGE 



Divine instincts in man 102 

Divinity of noble sympathy 102 

Divine sympathy 103 

Doubleattractionofwealthwithgoodness 104 

Dreams and their consequences ] 04 

Duplicity 105 

EARTHLY charms become nought 

when heaven arms -. 106 

Earthly love may so be won 107 

Earth's blessing, and heavens daughter 1 08 

Ease the brain, or the heart bursts 109 

Ebb and flow of fortune 109 

Economy of love 109 

Effect of power 110 

Effects of standing on Dover Cliff 110 

Election tactics Ill 

Evasion Ill 

Even revolvement necessary for all ... 1 11 

Every one has a weak side, even Ccesar 112 

Evil begets evil 113 

Evil conscience makes cowards 113 

Evil defending its own . 114 

Evil endeavouring to apologize for its 

acts 115 

Evil a quality that has oft no prescience 116 

Evil minds delight in scandal 118 



xxiv CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

Evil personified 119 

Evil recoils 119 

Evils of divided councils 120 

Experience must be bought 260 

Extinct antipathies 121 

Extremity of evil 121 

FAITHFULNESS admired even by 

the enemy 122 

Falstajf's philosophy of mental and 

physical courage 122 

Fatalism 123 

Fate of favourites 123 

Feast won — fast lost 125 

Feeling 125 

Feeling may temper, but may not over- 

come, justice 126 

Feeling without principle 126 

Fickleness of popular opinion 127 

Filial ingratitude 127 

Filial ingratitude 128 

Finding the strawberry under the 

nettle 133 

First love 128 

Flattery 129 

Flattery of heroes 129 

Forced marriages are oft miscarriages 129 



CONTENTS. xxv 

PAGE 

Forced marriages make desert homes. . . 130 

Force of soul 131 

Foreboding 131 

Forget principle, and chaos comes 132 

Fortune fails %vith the loss of principle 132 

Fortitude in extremity 134 

Freedom of thought 134 

Friendship 135 

Friendship 135 

Friendship's agony 135 

Friendship's agony 137 

Friends in sin are seldom friends in 

need 137 

Friends in council — On government. .. 138 
Friends in council — The difficulty of 

being gentle, and yet severe 138 

Friends in council — The great duke ... 140 

GAIN and keep a virtuous sister's love 142 

God helps where pure affection exists. . . 144 

God's image 144 

Good deserted brings desperation 144 

God works with those that work with 

him s .... 145 

Good and evil in nature 150 

Good by nature 151 

Good, if intended in love 151 



xxvi CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

Good men in power require the constant 

sympathy of their friends 151 

Good will sometimes suffer unde- 
servedly 152 

Grandeur in death of Rome and 

Egypt 152 

Great men never die 156 

Greatness forgetful of itself 157 

Greatness of soul . 157 

Grief and consolation 158 

Grief in parting added to by presenti- 
ment of misfortune 158 

Grief uttered a safety-valve to the heart 159 
Growth of imagination 160 

HAPPILY begotten 160 

Happiness in employment 161 

Hard and soft 161 

Hastiness 161 

He was too noble for them 161 

Heart steady — brain cool — nerves firm 162 

Heaven and earth 162 

Heaven before earth 163 

Heaven hath a hand in these events ... 185 

Heaven punishes where the law fails. . . 1 63 

Heaven operating on man 164 

Heaven weeps where crime abounds ... 164 



CONTENTS. xxvii 



PAGE 



Hell upon earth of civil war 166 

Heroes are least so when at home ; or, 
the farewell of love and fortitude ... 168 

Heroes not ahvays statesmen 169 

Heroic sympathy 170 

Heroism 171 

High breeding 172 

High-souled feelings mastering physi- 
cal infirmity 173 

High and low 174 

Home affections 174 

Home-keeping youths have ever homely 

wits 174 

Honour is from above 175 

Hope oft affords more pleasure than 

possession . 176 

Horrors of civil war .... 176 

Horrors of filial ingratitude 1 77 

How to shame the evil spirit 177 

Human inequalities 177 

Human parrots 178 

Human varieties 178 

Humorous recipe for producing hu- 
mility 179 

Husband's love 180 

Husband's remorse for unjust sus- 
picion 181 



XXV111 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE 



Hypocrisy a bottled spider 1 81 

Hypocrisy an evil impersonated 181 

IDLERS of time 182 

Imprudence 187 

In civil war nice calculations are re- 
quired 187 

Inconsistency of the bishop turning 

general 188 

Inconstancy 189 

Inconstancy of blind fortune 190 

Indications of jealousy 94 

Individuality of character 614 

Infection of companionship 190 

Infirmities of character should be 

borne with 184* 

Infirmities of honesty 191 

Innocence 191 

Innocence of childhood 182 

Inscrutability of Providence 191 

Insincerity 192 

Intensity of feelings increased by the 

greatness of the prize 192 

In the reproof of chance lies the true 

proof of men 196 

In time we hate that which we often 
fear 192 



COWTHJSTTS. xxix 



Invocation to the poivers of darkness 193 

JO Y of boon companionship 193 

Judgment waits for repentance 183 

KISS the rod that makes the future 
cheerful 199 

LET not men use you as the cuckoo 

does the sparrow 200 

Liberty a cloak for selfishness 201 

Liberty abused when conscience is 

misused 202 

Light and shade 205 

Light ever blessed — Music ever welcome 205 

Lights and shades of life 206 

Living death 206 

Locality of birth 207 

Love 207 

Love 208 

Love 208 

Love constant 208 

Love constant 209 

Love equal 209 

Love heavenly 209 

Love in chains * 209 

Love in fairy land 210 



xxx CONTENTS. 



PAGE 



Love in power and coarseness. Love 

in beauty and purity 210 

> Love inseparable 212 

Love not always governed by reason... 212 
Love oft fails when ceremony com- 
mences 214 

Love one-sided 214 

Love overpowering duty 215 

Love regretted 194 

Love scolding a pretender 215 

Love, — the mighty conqueror, comes 

sometimes when least expected 216 

Love — the pursuit makes the romance 217 

Loves anguish 217 

Loves apology for jealousy 219 

Love's attraction 220 

Love's bantering 220 

Love's bidding 221 

Love's conquest 222 

Love's ecstacy 222 

Love's errors 223 

Love's fantasies 224 

Love's gravitation 224 

Love's life and death 202 

Love's mediatorship — Its dangers and 

its conquests 225 

Love's mystification and confusion ... 230 



CONTENTS. xsxi 



PAGE 



Love's mysterious sympathies and 

antipathies 227 

Love's mysterious sympathies and 

antipathies 228 

Love's offering 231 

Love's parting , 231 

Love's parting 232 

L ove's perturbation 232 

Love's pleadings 199 

Love's secrets 232 

Love's true course never did run smooth 195 
L ove's wisdom and prescience 234 

MAIDS like not maudlins 235 

Man is more often to be feared than 

God 240 

Manners make or unmake. 240 

Marriage constancy 241 

Marriage reproaches 483 

Materials of war in the middle ages. . . 241 

Meeting of the affections 242 

Meeting of the sympathies 243 

Men in high position are obliged to 
assume manners often foreign to 

their dispositions 245 

Mental anguish 246 

Mental agony 247 



sxxii CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

Mercy nobility's true badge 247 

Mince not the truth 248 

Mind in manner 248 

Mind in voice 248 

Mind, like matter, ever heaving 249 

Mind should assimilate before matter 249 

Miseries of civil war 285 

Misfortune of true love 251 

Misfortune of the truly good 252 

Moral power overcoming passion 252 

Modesty of the hero 257 

Murder of the innocent 257 

Music and its qualities 259 

Music the touchstone of the soul 259 

Mystery of sympathies and antipathies 484 

Mystery of the humours 260 

NATURE collapsing 261 

Nature governed by God's representa- 
tive on earth 262 

Nature in antagonism to passion 263 

Nature overflowing the healthy dykes 

of art 266 

Nature poisoned ... 267 

Nature's prognostics 267 

Natures sympathy with the misfor- 
tunes of greatness 268 



CONTENTS. 



XXXlll 



PAGE 



Nature's ties , 268 

Necessity of the governing powers keep- 
ing a conscience* .. 269 

Never lose fear of the Invisible 269 

Never moJce love by proxy 270 

Night, and its special correspondents 270 

Nobility in death 271 

Nobility of conscience 272 

Nobility of revenge 272 

Nobility of the dying statesman 272 

Nobility of the matron 275 

Nobility of the Iwrse , 276 

Noble aspirations . 277 

Noble minds have noble bearing 277 

Noble minds love noble mates 277 

None but a father can feel as one 278 

None but a father can love so purely 

and yet so deeply 279 

None but the weakest could so be 

won 280 

Noting of the soul through the face 281 

OATHS should be accompanied by 
conscience 281 

Obtaining a maid for marriage versus 
men for ivar , 282 

Old judges the most merciful 286 

o 



xxxiv CONTENTS, 



PAGE 



Omens may be noticed * 286 

Once a king always one 287 

One of the worst sins 287 

On the art of obtaining a crown 288 

Ordinary minds seldom discern great- 
ness when near 289 

Out of sight, out of mind 290 

Out of sight, out of mind 290 

Outside politicians 290 

Outward beauty 291 

Over generosity oft brings distress 291 

PANDERERS to evil will be con- 
temned 292 

Patrician admiration 292 

Peace pleadings 293 

Penalties of sin 294 

Penalty of being familiar with in- 
feriors 295 

Perfection 296 

Perfection of women 296 

Peril of power 297 

Persuasion 297 

Perturbation 298 

Perturbation of a great mind on the 

discovery of evil 298 

Perverted affections 298 



CONTENTS. xxxv 

PAGE 

Philosophy of charms 300 

Philosophy of dissimulation 301 

Philosophy of friendship 301 

Philosophy of life 301 

Philosophy of marriage 302 

Philosophy of music 303 

Philosophy of sympathy .. 303 

Philosophy of the conscious world 303 

Physiognomy 304 

Physiognomy 304 

Physiognomy 305 

Physiognomy of age and sorrow 305 

Physiognomy of misfortune 305 

Physiology of love 306 

Picture of a hero 307 

Picture of morning 307 

Picture of perfection in women 308 

Policy sometimes sits above con- 
science 309 

Popular election — its mysteries 309 

Portrait of Anglia 311 

Poverty no friend to intellect 311 

Power dangerous to its possessor with- 
out conscience 312 

Power dangerous with weak heads ... 312 

Poiver of beauty 313 

Power of beauty 314 



xxxvi CONTENTS. 



PAGE 



Power of change 314 

Power of conscience 315 

Poiver of faith 315 

Power of imagination 316 

Power oft renders its possessor con- 
scious of much unhappiness 316 

Prayer of a discontented spirit 317 

Preciousness of character 318 

Prejudice of the multitude against 

favourites 318 

Premature marriage 319 

Presages of death, and departure of the 

soul 319 

Presagings of evil 322 

Prescience defective 322 

Prescience of character an attribute of 

the great 322 

Prestige 323 

Prevention better than cure 323 

Pride 324 

Pride of birth 324 

Procrastination 324 

Prodigality 325 

QUARREL of friends doubly bitter... 325 

RANKS and degrees 325 



CONTENTS. xxxvii 



PAGE 



Ranks and degrees 613 

Recognition in the flesh 326 

Religious faith makes obstinate war- 
riors 326 

Remorse of conscience 203 

Repentance never too late 327 

Repentance never too late 327 

Repose 328 

Reputation necessary for happiness ... 328 

SACREDNESS of marriage 328 

Security is mortal's chief est enemy . . . 329 

Seeing contrary 330 

Self-murder 331 

Short-liv'd wits wither as they groiv . . . 331 

Short-sightedness of ambition 332 

Shun the garrulous and the covetous... 332 

Signs foretell events * 332 

Signs of murder 333 

Signs of special interposition. 334 

Sin engenders sin c... 335 

Singleness preferable when the heart 

cannot accompany the hand 335 

Sin of ingratitude 336 

Sleep 336 

Sleeping innocence 283 

Smooth waters run deep 337 



xxxviii CONTENTS. 



PAGE 



Solitude enjoyed by contrast 337 

Sorrow 338 

Sour bigotry worrying charity 338 

Spirits sympathize with humanity ... 341 

Statesmen's jealousies in olden time . . . 344 

State watch 344 

Steel well tempered 344 

Strength or weakness in use or abuse 345 
Study and pleasure should go hand in 

hand 345 

Sunset 346 

Surface love uncertain 346 

Sweetness of mind 346 

Sympathies and antipathies 347 

Sympathy 348 

Sympathy of courage 348 

Sympathy of heroes 348 

Sympathy of the affections ., 340 

TEMPERAMENT 351 

That what we have we prize not to the 

worth whiles we enjoy it 342 

The accomplished gentleman 353 

The action of conscience 354 

The agony of doubt 354 

The all-conquering queen 355 

The anatomy of honour 355 



CONTENTS. xxxix 



PAGE 

The attributes of love and duty 356 

The babbler 358 

The bait of falsehood 525 

Thebalance 359 

The battle of the kings 351 

The beautiful in art 359 

The bigotry of virtue 360 

The bird's courage sometimes greater 

than man's 360 

The bourne from whence no traveller 

returns 361 

The broken-hearted soldier 361 

The brother and sister.... 362 

The brother single, and the brother 

married 365 

The brow of royalty 367 

The cares of royalty 367 

The cares of the great 369 

The charm of good manners and ex- 
pression 369 

The child outwitting the man 370 

The cholerick 371 

The confession and the plighting 371 

The crovon of content 374 

The crow pecking at the eagle 375 

The curse of civil war prophesied 375 

The, demon of revenge 376 



xl CONTENTS. 



PAGE 



The difficulties of hunger 490 

The distressed father 377 

The divinity of a noble spirit 378 

The doctrine of mercy enunciated by 

an angel of light 379 

The dove seeking its mate 379 

The dying warrior 380 

The earth diseased 381 

The eloquence of woe 382 

The evil power 383 

The fairy's release from her earthly 

passion 389 

The fall of greatness in love 602 

The fatalism of sin 390 

The fatality of love when dispropor- 

tioned 392 

The fickleness of public opinion 392 

The fore-doomed 394 

The friend's pledge 396 

The friend's last request 396 

The friend's rebuke 397 

The game of life 397 

The gods see farther than men 398 

The good archbishop's prophecy 399 

The good king's reception of his bride 400 

The good maid's prayer 401 

The good oft preserved by their instinct 401 



CONTENTS. 


xli 


The good queen's hour of agony 


PAGE 

402 


The good queen mother's deathbed 


403 


The great doom's image 


405 


The labour of drunkenness 


405 


The great lamenting the great 


406 


The mental sacrifices required of the 




great 


407 


The great soul cannot stoop to vileness 408 


The great soul's presage 


409 


The great sympathize even in antago- 




nism , . . . 


410 
413 


The guilty soul in fear 


The hangman's comfort 


414 


The happy balance 


414 


The happy medium 


415 


The head no match for the heart 


415 


The heart ....... 


420 
420 




The heart's desolation 


421 


The heart the truest timekeeper 


422 


The henbane of mismatches 


422 


The heroic lovers' meeting 


423 


The heroic mother . . 


423 


The hero o'ercome by covjardice 


427 


The hero's progress 


.428 






falls . 


430 





xlii CONTENTS. 



PAGE 



The human fang — slander 431 

The husband's prerogative in olden 

time 431 

The ill-timed marriage 606 

The indispensability of confidence be- 

tiveen the King and the subject 432 

The intriguing step-mother 432 

The King's address to his soldiers before 

the battle 433 

The King's agony 434 

The King and the gardener . . . . e 436 

The King's death 439 

The King's death 441 

The King's despair 442 

The King's grief that he had not seen 

the faith sooner 442 

The King's lament for a faithful servant 444 

The King's legacy — experience 384 

The King's living death 446 

The King on the great difficulty 447 

The King's prayer before the decisive 

battle 449 

The King's prophecy of the battle 450 

The Kings reflection on misfortune... 599 
The Kings reproachful appeal to his 

daughter 452 

The King the best moralist 452 



CONTENTS. xliii 



PAGE 



The King, the father, and the son, phi- 
losophize on the nature of time and 

exile 454 

The King the prince of warriors 457 

The King's warning to the archbishop 459 
The lady's treasury of secrets revealed 460 
The largeness of the heart oft wins the day 465 

The law before the gospel 467 

The lay and spiritual peers' arguments 

respecting their relative duties 468 

The lever of future progress 470 

The love charm 471 

The mediceval warrior 472 

The mind requires the Or eat Architect 

to set the heart in order 472 

The misery of suspicion 473 

The misfortune of over generosity 491 

The misfortune of over generosity 493 

The morality of time 474 

The mother conquers — the hero dies . . . 474 

The mother saves Jter boy 475 

The mother's agony 477 

The mother's blessing and advice 478 

The mothers malediction 479 

The mother's pleadings against the 

fathers reasoning 479 

The murder of the innocent 480 



xlir CONTENTS. 


The mystery of death 


PAGE 

482 


The nature is sure to shoio itself 


485 


The necessity of responsible power for 




high purposes 


486 


The night before the battle 


486 


The nightingale lamenting the loss of 




its mate 


488 


The noble mind defiled by contact with 


its inferior .. 


489 


The oath-breaker and betrayer's punish- 




ment 


489 
491 


The old sinner's apology 


The opposite dinner sauces 


605 


The owners of the ancient world on the 




law of partnership 


560 


The panic-stricken creditor — 


493 


The peer the best judge of the prince's 






494 
495 


The perplexity of guilt 


The philosophy of royal happiness dis- 




cussed by the king and his son 


496 


The philosophy of merriment 


501 


The physiognomy of a noble mind per- 




turbed 


501 
503 


The policy of defiance 






virtue over loiver natures 


503 



CONTENTS. xlv 



PAGE 



The poiver of habit 561 

The poiver of observation 504 

The power of the imagination 504 

The prescience of conscience 505 

The present and the future depend on 

ourselves . . 506 

The principle of greatness 506 

The proposal 506 

The queens fortitude 507 

The q uarrel of the tivo friends 508 

The rarest of jewels found 509 

The really noble 510 

The reckoning day ever approaching 510 
The reformed prince making the 

amende honorable 511 

The reformed sinner ofttimes tlie most 

sincere saint 515 

There is a divinity that so doth hedge 

a king 520 

There is a tide in the affairs of men ... 521 
There is a tide in the affairs of men. . . 521 
There is sometimes more in dreams 

than idle fantasy 522 

The release from fairy witcliery 523 

The republicans apology for destroy- 
ing the hero 547 

The resolve and promise 524 



xlvi CONTENTS. 



PAGE 



The return of consciousness 524 

The sacred character of marriage 525 

The sacrifice to friendship 526 

The salt of manhood 527 

The seared heart 527 

The seared heart 528 

The setting of a great man's sun 528 

The shrew 's portrait 530 

The sleep of innocence 531 

The soldier's agony 532 

The soldier's honourable poverty 532 

The soldier husband's death 533 

The sons bearing their father's cha- 
racter 534 

The soul 535 

The soul all in all 535 

The soul at war with sleep 535 

The soul in doubt and fear 536 

The soul lives beyond the grave 537 

The soul's palace in peril 537 

The soul of nobility 537 

The soul of the state 538 

The soul requires its proper lever 

whilst here 539 

The soul sits high where authority 

supports it 539 

The spirit in purgatory 540 



CONTENTS. 


xlvii 


The spirit of contradiction conquered 


PAGE 

541 


The stage nature's mirror 


542 


The statesmen choose the men — the 543 


soldiers fight the battle 




The statesman's difficulty 


546 


The statesman's harangue 


547 


The suitor 


549 

549 


The terrors of civil ivar 


The tired spirit 


552 


The title, lords, the title ! 


552 


The trials of high position 


553 


The triumph of innocence 


554 


The troubles of the soul beyond natural 




aid . 


559 

559 


The true friend of kings 


The true strength in war or peace 


559 


The two queens — night and beauty . . . 


562 


The tyrant's last moments 


562 


The ubiquity of the mind 


563 


The union of nature and art : 


564 


The unity of faith where true love lives 566 


The unseasoned in time of danger . . . 


566 


The unsocial 


567 


The Utopia of courtship 


567 


The virtuous wife's anguish 


568 


The virtuous wife's defence 


569 


The warrior and the dandy 


571 



xlviii CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

The warriors anger 572 

The luarrior's death 573 

The warriors death 575 

The warriors defiance 575 

The warrior's defiance 576 

The warrior s prayer 577 

The ivarriors prayer for his son 577 

The way to enjoy nature is to become 

satiated with art 578 

The iveeping queens and mothers 578 

The %vidow's rebuke 581 

The %vidow's wail 582 

The wife 584 

The wife confessor 584 

The wife's love 584 

The wife's pattern 585 

The ivife's remonstrance 587 

The ivife the greater villain 588 

The ivill for the deed 589 

The ivise woman 589 

The vjolf and the lamb 590 

The woman's weapon 591 

The work of the warrior 591 

The worldly epoch of civilization 592 

The worldly J H&nd [growing cold 593 

The world's common comment on mis- 
fortune 593 



CONTENTS. xlix 



PAGE 



The worm that dieth not without repent- 
ance 594 

The worthy scion of a noble father 594 

The worthy scion of a noble father — 

their deaths 596 

They lose the world that buy it with 

much care 393 

This was a man 598 

Those we love we hope to meet again... 598 
Those who cannot learn either through 

the medium of nature or art 598 

Thrice are heroes armed when honoured 

wives give counsel 197 

Time a happy or miserable companion, 

according as %ve wear it 601 

Time and opportunity 350 

Too late for dinner 602 

Too noble for flattery 603 

Tragedy of the three brothers 603 

Trust not appearances 605 

Truth not ahvays pleasant 564 

UNCERTAINTY of secular opinions 607 

Union is strength 608 

Unmistakable signs of nature 608 

Use and abuse of ceremony 610 

Use and abuse of oaths 610 

d 



1 CONTENTS. 



PAGE 



Titterings of the heart 611 

VALUE of character 612 

Variations of climate 612 

Virgin friendship 612 

Virtue not local 613 

Virtue of patience 613 

Visiting 614 

Vulgar opinion 615 

WEALTH and its keeping 615 

What may be excused in a prince, may 

not in co king 616 

When ignorance is bliss 'tis folly to be 

wise 617 

When valour preys on reason, it eats 

the sword it fights with 617 

Where inequality exists safety lies in 

fear .' 619 

Where nature has been bountiful, faith 

should pray more urgently 619 

Where there is no mercy justice some- 
times descends to tyranny 620 

Wholesome obedience the grand law of 

nature 622 

Wielding of matcrialandahslractpower 622 
Wife'alogic 623 



CONTENTS. li 



PAGE 

Winning the shrew 624 

Wit and valour 625 

Without conscience bloody deeds ensue 625 
Without obedience to heaven's laws 

kings are not secure 626 

Wives should persuade rather than 

overrule 630 

Woman reigns ivheretheheartbeats high 631 
Woman's great mistake, or the maid 

the better counsellor 632 

Woman's love 635 

Woman's love at parting 635 

Woman's source of earthly happiness 635 

Woman the better man 636 

Woman versus secrets 638 

Women jealous of their honour m,ust 

fear flattery 638 

Women's society indispensable to man's 

happiness 640 

Wooing, wedding, and repenting 642 

Worldly inexperience ; — its disadvan- 
tages 642 

Wretched position 643 

Wrinkled smiles 643 

YO U must keep your own secrets 643 




THE PHILOSOPHY 

OP 

WILLIAM SHAKESPEAEE. 



A GREAT SOUL CANNOT SUFFER 
LONG. 

Cromwell. How does your grace ? 

"Wolsey. Why, well ; 

Never so truly happy, my good Cromwell.^ 
I know myself now ; and I feel within me 
A peace above all earthly dignities, 
A still and quiet conscience. The king has 

cur'd me, 
I humbly thank his grace; and from these 

shoulders, 
These ruin'd pillars, out of pity, taken 
A load would sink a navy, too much honour : 
0, 'tis a burden, Cromwell, 'tis a burden, 
Too heavy for a man that hopes for heaven. 

Crom. I am glad your grace has made that 
right use of it. 

B 



THE PHILOSOPHY OF 



Wol. I hope I have : I am able now, me- 
thinks, 
(Out of a fortitude of soul I feel,) 
To endure more miseries, and greater far, 
Than my weak-hearted enemies dare offer. 

K. HENRY VIII., A. 3, S. 2. 



A GREAT MANS DEATH AND 
EPITAPH. 

Well, the voice goes, madam : 
After the stout earl Northumberland 
Arrested him at York, and brought him forward, 
(As a man sorely tainted,) to his answer, 
He fell sick suddenly, and grew so ill, 
He could not sit his mule. 
At last, with easy roads, he came to Leicester, 
Lodg'd in the abbey ; where the reverend abbot, 
With all his convent, honourably receiv'd him ; 
To whom he gave these words, — O father abbot. 
An old man, broken with the storms of state, 
Is come to lay his weary bones among ye ; 
Give him a little earth for charity I 
So went to bed : where eagerly his sickness 
Pursu'd him still ; and, three nights after this, 
About the hour of eight, (which he himself 
Foretold, should be his last,) full of repentance, 
Continual meditations, tears, and sorrow s, 
He gave his honours to the world again, 
His blessed part to heaven, and slept in peace. 

This cardinal, 
Though from an humble stock, undoubtedly 
Was fashion' d to much honour from his cradle. 
He was a scholar, and a ripe, and good one : 



WILLIAM 8RAKESPJEABK 3 

Exceeding wise, fair spoken, and persuading : 
Lofty, and sour, to them that lov'd him not ; 
But, to those men that sought him, sweet as 

summer. 
And though he were unsatisfied in getting, 
(Which was a sin,) yet in bestowing, madam, 
He was most princely : Ever witness for him 
Those twins of learning, that he rais'd in you, 
Ipswich, and Oxford! one of which fell with him, 
Unwilling to outlive the good that did it ; 
The other, though unfinish'd, yet so famous, 
So excellent in art, and still so rising, 
That Christendom shall ever speak his virtue. 
His overthrow heap'd happiness upon him ; 
Eor then, and not till then, he felt himself, 
And found the blessedness of being little : 
And, to add greater honours to his age 
Than man could give him, he died, fearing God. 

K. HENRY VIII,, A. 4, S. 2. 



ACTIVITY NECESSARY TO MAN'S 
HAPPINESS. 

Princes, 
"What grief hath set the jaundice on your cheeks? 
The ample proposition, that hope makes 
In all designs begun on earth below, 
Eails in the promis'd largeness : checks and dis- 
asters 
Grow in the veins of actions highest rear'd ; 
As knots, by the conflux of meeting sap, 
Infect the sound pine, and divert his grain 
Tortive and errant from his course of growth. 
Nor, princes, is it matter new to us, 



THE PHILOSOPHY OF 



That we come short of our suppose so far, 
That, after seven years' siege, yet Troy walls 

stand ; 
Sith every action that hath gone before, 
Whereof we have record, trial did draw 
Bias and thwart, not answering the aim, 
And that unbodied figure of the thought 
That gave it surmised shape. "Why then, you 

princes, 
Do you with cheeks abash'd behold our works, 
And think them shames, which are, indeed, 

nought else 
But the protractive trials of great Jove, 
To find persistive constancy in men ? 
The fineness of which metal is not found 
In fortune's love : for then, the bold and coward, 
The wise and fool, the artist and unread, 
The hard and soft, seem all aflin'd and kin : 
But, in the wind and tempest of her frown, 
Distinction, with a broad and powerful fan, 
Puffing at all, winnows the light away ; 
And what hath mass, or matter, by itself 
Lies, rich in virtue, and unmingled. 

TROILUS AND CRESSIDA, A. 1, S. 3. 



A DAUGHTER'S LOVE. 

I no love you more than words can wield the 

matter, 
Dearer than eye-sight, space and liberty ; 
Beyond what can be valued, rich or rare ; 
No less than life, with grace, health, beauty, 

honour : 
As much as child e'er lov'd, or father found. 



WILLIAM SHAKLJSPUARU. 5 

A love that makes breath poor, and speech 

unable ; 
Beyond all manner of so much I love you. 

KING LEAR, A. 1, S. 1. 



A GOOD CAUSE FILLS BOTH HEAD 

AND HEART. 

Loeds. How have you slept, my lord ? 
RicmioxD. The sweetest sleep, and fairest- 
boding dreams, 
That ever enter' d in a drowsy head, 
Have I since your departure had, my lords. 
Me thought, their souls, whose bodies Richard 

murder' d, 
Came to my tent, and cried — On ! victory ! 
I promise you, my heart is very jocund 
In the remembrance of so fair a dream. 
'Tis time to arm, and give direction. — 
More than I have said, loving countrymen, 
The leisure and enforcement of the time 
Forbids to dwell on : Tet remember this, — 
God, and our good cause, fight upon our side, 
The prayers of holy saints, and wronged souls, 
Like high-reared bulwarks, stand before our 

faces ; 
Richard except, those, whom we fight against, 
Had rather have us win, than him they follow. 
For what is he they follow ? truly, gentlemen, 
A bloody tyrant, and a homicide ; 
One rais'd in blood, and one in blood establish' d ; 
One that made means to come by what he hath, 
And slaughter' d those that were the means to 

help him ; 
A base, foul stone, made precious by the foil 



THE PHILOSOPHY OF 



Of England's chair, where he is falsely set ; 
One that hath ever been God's enemy : 
Then if you fight against God's enemy, 
God will, in justice, ward you as his soldiers ; 
If you do sweat to put a tyrant down, 
You sleep in peace, the tyrant being slain ; 
If you do fight against your country's foes, 
Tour country's fat shall pay your pains the 

hire ; 
If you do fight in safeguard of your wives, 
Tour wives shall welcome home the conquerors ; 
If you do free your children from the sword, 
Tour children's children quit it in your age. 
Then, in the name of God, and all these rights, 
Advance your standards, draw your willing 

swords : 
For me, the ransom of my bold attempt 
Shall be this cold corpse on the earth's cold 

face; 
But if I thrive, the gain of my attempt 
The least of you shall share his part thereof. 
Sound, drums and trumpets, boldly and cheer- 

fully; _ 
God, and Saint George ! Richmond, and victory ! 

K. RICHARD III., A. 5, S. 3. 



A GOOD MAN RESCUED BY A GREAT 
ONE FROM HIS ENEMIES. 

Cromwell. My mind gave me, 

In seeking tales, and informations, 
Against this man, (whose honesty the devil 
And his disciples only envy at,) 
Te blew the fire that burns ye: Now have at ye. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEABE. 7 

Enter the Kin a, frowning on them; takes Ms seat. 
Gardiner. Dread sovereign, how much are 
we bound to heaven 
In daily thanks, that gave us such a prince ; 
Not only good and wise, but most religious : 
One that, in all obedience, makes the church 
The chief aim of his honour ; and, to strengthen 
That holy duty, out of dear respect, 
His royal self in judgment comes to hear 
The cause betwixt her and this great offender. 
K. Henry. Tou were ever good at sudden 
commendations, 
Bishop of Winchester. But know, I come not 
To hear such flattery now, and in my presence ; 
They are too thin and base to hide offences. 
To me you cannot reach ; you play the spaniel, 
And think with wagging of your tongue to win 

me; 
But, whatsoe'er thou tak'st me for, I am sure, 
Thou hast a cruel nature, and a bloody. — 
Good man, [to Cranmer] sit down. Now let 

me see the proudest 
He, that dares most, but wag his finger at thee : 
By all that's holy, he had better starve, 
Than but once think this place becomes thee not. 
Surrey. May it please your grace. — 
K. Hen. No, sir, it does not please me. 

I had thought, I had had men of some under- 
standing 
And wisdom, of my council ; but I find none. 
Was it discretion, lords, to let this man, 
This good man, (few of you deserve that title,) 
This honest man, wait like a lowsy footboy 
At chamber door ? and one as great as you are ? 
Why, what a shame was this ? Did my com- 
mission 



THE PHILOSOPHY OF 



Bid ye so far forget yourselves ? I gave ye 
Power as he was a counsellor to try him, 
Not as a groom : There's some of ye, I see, 
More out of malice than integrity, 
Would try him to the utmost, had ye mean ; 
Which ye shall never have, while I live. 

Chancellor. Thus far, 

My most dread sovereign, may it like your grace 
To let my tongue excuse all. What was pur- 

pos'd 
Concerning his imprisonment, was rather 
(If there be faith in men,) meant for his trial, 
And fair purgation to the world, than malice ; 
I am sure, in me. 

K. Hen. Well, well, my lords, respect him ; 
Take him, and use him well, he's worthy of it. 
I will say thus much for him, If a prince 
May be beholden to a subject, I 
Am, for his love and service, so to him. 
Make me no more ado, but all embrace him ; 
Be friends, for shame, my lords. — My lord of 

Canterbury, 
I have a suit which you must not deny me ; 
That is, a fair young maid that yet wants bap- 
tism : 
You must be godfather, and answer for her. 
Ceanmer. The greatest monarch now alive 
may glory 
In such an honour ; How may I deserve it, 
That am a poor and humble subject to you ? 

K. HENRY VIII., A. 5, S. 2. 



A HAPPY CONSCIENCE THE 
BRIGHTEST OF SUNS. 
K. Eicuaed. Who saw the sun to-day ? 



WILLIAM SHAKESPJEABJE. 9 

Eatcliff. Not I, my lord. 

K. Eich. Then lie disdains to shine ; for, 
by the book, 
He should have brav'd the east an hour ago : 
A black day will it be to somebody. — 
Ratcliff. — 

Eat. My lord ? 

K. Etch. The sun will not be seen to-day ; 
The sky doth frown and lour upon our army. 
I would, these dewy tears were from the ground. 
Not shine to-day ! Why, what is that to me, 
More than to Richmond? for the self-same 

heaven, 
That frowns on me, looks sadly upon him. 

K. RICHARD III., A. 5, S. 3. 



A MAN REAPS WHAT HE SOWS. 

Parolees. Good monsieur Lavatch, give my 
lord Lafeu this letter : I have ere now, sir, been 
better known to you, when I have held familiarity 
with fresher clothes ; but I am now, sir, muddied 
in fortune's moat, and smell somewhat strong of 
her strong displeasure. 

Clow^". Truly, fortune's displeasure is but 
sluttish, if it smell so strong as thou speakest 
of: I will henceforth eat no fish of fortune's 
buttering. 

Pab. My lord, I am a man whom fortune 
hath most cruelly scratched. 

Lafeu. And what would you have me to do? 
'tis too late to pare her nails now. Wherein 
have you played the knave with fortune, that 
she should scratch you, who of herself is a good 
lady, and would not have knaves thrive long 



io THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

under her. There's a quart oVecu for you : Let 
the justices make you and fortune friends ; I am 
for other business. 

all's well that ends well, a. 5, s. 2. 



A MIND DISTURBED IS A MIND 

DISEASED. 

Trifles, light as air, 
Are, to the jealous, confirmations strong 
As proofs of holy writ. This may do something. 
The Moor already changes with my poison : — 
Dangerous conceits are, in their natures, poisons, 
"Which, at the first, are scarce found to distaste ; 
But, with a little act upon the blood, 
Burn like the mines of sulphur. — I did say so: — 
Look, where he comes ! Not poppy, nor man- 

dragora, 
Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world, 
Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep 
"Which thou ow'dst yesterday. 

OTHELLO, A. 3, S. 3. 



A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 

Bassanio. 'Tis not unknown to you, Antonio, 
How much I have disabled mine estate, 
By something showing a more swelling port 
Than my faint means would grant continuance : 
Nor do I now make moan to be abridg'd 
From such a noble rate ; but my chief care 
Is, to come fairly off from the great debts, 
Wherein my time, something too prodigal, 
Hath left me gaged : To you, Antonio, 
I owe the most, in money, and in love ; 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 1 1 

And from your love I have a warranty 
To unburthen all my plots, and purposes, 
How to get clear of all the debts I owe. 

Aftofio. I pray you, good JBassanio, let me 

know it ; 
And, if it stand, as you yourself still do, 
Within the eye of honour, be assur'd, 
My purse, my person, my extremest means, 
Lie all unlock' d to your occasions. 

Bass. In my school-days, when I had lost 

one shaft, 
I shot his fellow of the self-same flight 
The self-same way, with more advised watch, 
To find the other forth; and by advent'ring 

both, 
I oft found both : I urge this childhood proof, 
Because what follows is pure innocence. 
I owe you much ; and, like a wilful youth, 
That which I owe is lost : but if you please 
To shoot another arrow that self way 
"Which you did shoot the first, I do not doubt, 
As I will watch the aim, or to find both, 
Or bring your latter hazard back again, 
And thankfully rest debtor for the first. 

Ais t t. Tou know me well ; and herein spend 

but time, 
To wind about my love with circumstance ; 
And, out of doubt, you do me now more wrong, 
In making question of my uttermost, 
Than if you had made waste of all I have : 
Then do but say to me what I should do, 
That in your knowledge may by me be done, 
And I am prest unto it : therefore, speak. 
Bass. In Belmont is a lady richly left, 
And she is fair, and, fairer than that word, 
Of wond'rous virtues ; sometimes from her eyes 



1 2 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

I did receive fair speechless messages : 
Her name is Portia ; nothing undervalued 
To Cato's daughter, Brutus' Portia. 
Nor is the wide world ignorant of her worth ; 
For the four winds blow in from every coast 
Renowned suitors : and her sunny locks 
Hang on her temples like a golden fleece ; 
Which makes her seat of Belmont, Colchos* 

strand, 
And many Jasons come in quest of her. 

my Antonio, had I but the means 
To hold a rival place with one of them, 

1 have a mind presages me such thrift, 
That I should questionless be fortunate. 

Ant. Thou know'st, that all my fortunes are 
(\Xj sea j 
Nor have I money, nor commodity 
To raise a present sum : therefore go forth, 
Try what my credit can in Venice do ; 
That shall be rack'd, even to the uttermost, 
To furnish thee to Belmont, to fair Portia. 
G-o, presently inquire, and so will I, 
"Where money is ; and I no question make, 
To have it of my trust, or for my sake. 

MERCHANT OF VENICE, A. 1, S. 1. 



A NOBLE NATURE AT WAR WITH 
ARTIFICE. 

Timof. Uncover, dogs, and lap. 

\Tlie dishes uncovered, are full of warm water. 

Some speak. What does his lordship mean ? 

Some other. I know not. 

Tim. May you a better feast never behold, 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 1 3 

You knot of mouth-friends ! smoke, and luke- 
warm water 
Is your perfection. This is Timon's last ; 
Who stuck and spangled you with flatteries, 
"Washes it off, and sprinkles in your faces 

\_TJiroiving water in their faces. 

Tour reeking villainy. Live loath' d, and long, 
Most smiling, smooth, detested parasites, 
Courteous destroyers, affable wolves, meek bears, 
Tou fools of fortune, trencher-friends, time's flies, 
Cap and knee slaves, vapours, and minute-jacks ! 
Of man, and beast, the infinite malady 
Crust you quite o'er ! — What, dost thou go ? 
Soft, take thy physick first — thou too, — and 
thou: 

\_Throws the dishes at them, and drives them out. 

Stay, I will lend thee money, borrow none. — 
What, all in motion ? Henceforth be no feast, 
Whereat a villain's not a welcome guest. 
Burn, house ; sink, Athens ! henceforth hated be 
Of Timon, man, and all humanity. 

TIMON OF ATHENS, A. 3, S. 6. 



A NOBLE NATURE GONE ASTBAY. 

It grieves many: 
The gentleman is learned, and a most rare speaker, 
To nature none more bound ; his training such, 
That he may furnish and instruct great teachers, 
And never seek for aid out of himself. 
Yet see 

When these so noble benefits shall prove 
Not well dispos'd, the mind growing once corrupt, 
They turn to vicious forms, ten times more ugly 



H THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Than ever they were fair. This man so complete, 
Who was enroll' d 'mongst wonders, and when we, 
Almost with ravish' d list'ning, could not find 
His hour of speech a minute, he, my lady, 
Hath into monstrous habits put the graces 
That once were his, and is become as black 
As if besmear' d in hell. 

K. HENRY VIII., A. 1, S. 2. 



A TKUCE IN THE HEROIC AGE. 

"Worthy of arms ! as welcome as to one 
That would be rid of such an enemy ; 
But that's no welcome : Understand more clear 
What's past, and what's to come, is strew'dwith 

husks 
And formless ruin of oblivion ; 
But in this extant moment, faith and troth, 
Strain' d purely from all hollow bias-drawing, 
Bids thee, with most divine integrity, 
From heart of very heart, great Hector, welcome. 

TROILUS AND CRESSIDA, . 4, S. 5. 



A TRUE FRIEND REBUKES WHERE 
FLATTERERS PRAISE. 

Timon. Now, Apemantus, if thou wert not 

sullen, I'd be good to thee. 
Apemantus. No, I'll nothing : for 

If I should be brib'd too, there would be none 

left 
To rail upon thee ; and then thou would' st sin 

the faster. 
Thou giv'st so long, Timon, I fear me, thou 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEABE. 1 5 

Wilt give away thyself in paper shortly : 
What need these feasts, pomps, and vain glories ? 

Tim. Nay, 

An you begin to rail on society once, 
I am sworn, not to give regard to you. 
Farewell ; and come with better musick. [Exit. 

Apem. So 5 — 

Thou'lt not hear me now, — thou shalt not then, 

I'll lock 
Thy heaven from thee. O, that men's ears 

should be 
To counsel deaf, but not to flattery ! 

TIMON OF ATHENS, A. 1, S. 2. 



A VIRTUOUS WIFE AND SISTER'S 
OMENS MAY NOT BE DISRE- 
GARDED. 

Andromache. When was my lord so much 
ungently tempered, 
To stop his ears against admonishment? 
Unarm, unarm, and do not fight to-day. 
Hector. You train me to offend you ; get 
you in : 
By all the everlasting gods, I'll go. 

And. My dreams will, sure, prove ominous 

to the day. 
Hect. No more, I say. 

Enter Cassandra. 
Cas. Where is my brother Sector ? 

And. Here, sister; arm'd, and bloody in 
intent. 
Consort with me in loud and dear petition. 
Pursue we him on knees ; for I have dream'd 



1 6 TUB PHILOSOPHY OF 

Of bloody turbulence, and this whole night 
Hath nothing been but shapes and forms of 
slaughter. 
Cas. 0, it is true. 

Hect. Ho ! bid my trumpet sound ! 

Cas. No notes of sally, for the heavens, 

sweet brother. 
Hect. Begone, I say: the gods have heard 

me swear. 
Cas. The gods are deaf to hot and peevish 
vows: 
They are polluted offerings, more abhorr'd 
Than spotted livers in the sacrifice. 

And. O ! be persuaded : Do not count it holy 
To hurt by being just : it is as lawful, 
For we would give much, to use violent thefts, 
And rob in the behalf of charity. 

Cas. It is the purpose, that makes strong 
the vow : 
But vows to every purpose must not hold : 
Unarm, sweet Sector. 

Hect. Hold you still, I say. 

Mine honour keeps the weather of my fate : 
Life every man holds dear ; but the dear man 
Holds honour far more precious dear than life. 

TROILUS AND CRESSIDA, A. 5, S. 2. 



ADMIRATION. 

Sweet mistress, (what your name is else I know 
not, 
Nor by what wonder you do hit on mine,) 
Less, in your knowledge, and your grace, you 
show not, 
Than our earth's wonder; more than earth 
divine. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 1 7 

Teach me, dear creature, how to think and 
speak ; 

Lay open to my earthy gross conceit, 
Smother' d in errors, feeble, shallow, weak, 

The folded meaning of your words' deceit. 
Against my soul's pure truth why labour you, 

To make it wander in an unknown field ? 
Are you a god ? would you create me new ? 

Transform me, then, and to your power I'll 
yield. 

COMEDY OF ERRORS, A. 3, S. 2. 



ADMIRATION OF BEAUTY. 

What ! are men mad ? Hath nature given them 

eyes 
To see this vaulted arch, and the rich crop 
Of sea and land, which can distinguish 'twixt 
The fiery orbs above, and the twinn'd stones 
Upon the number' d beach ? and can we not 
Partition make with spectacles so precious, 
? Twixt fair and foul ? 

CYMBELINE, A. I, S. 7. 



AFFECTION. 

O ! let me clip you 
In arms as sound, as when I woo'd ; in heart 
As merry, as when our nuptial day was done, 
And tapers burn'd to bedward. 

CORIOLANUS, A. 1, S. 



1 8 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

AGE AND WISDOM PAYING TRIBUTE 
TO HEROISM. 

Nestok. I have, thou gallant Trojan, seen 

thee oft, 
Labouring for destiny, mate cruel way 
Through ranks of Greekish youth : and I have 

seen thee, 
As hot as Perseus, spur thy Phrygian steed, 
Despising many forfeits and subduements, 
"When thou hast hung thy advanced sword i' the 

air, 
Not letting it decline on the declined ; 
That I have said to some my standers-by, 
Lo, Jupiter is yonder, dealing life I 
And I have seen thee pause, and take thy breath, 
When that a ring of Greeks have hemm'd thee in, 
Like an Olympian wrestling : This have I seen ; 
But this thy countenance, still lock'd in steel, 
I never saw till now. I knew thy grandsire, 
And once fought with him: he was a soldier 

good ; 
But, by great Mars, the captain of us all, 
Never like thee : Let an old man embrace thee ; 
And, worthy warrior, welcome to our tents. 
iENEAS. 'Tis the old Nestor. 
Hector. Let me embrace thee, good old 

chronicle, 
That hast so long walk'd hand in hand with 

time: 
Most reverend Nestor, I am glad to clasp thee. 

TKOILUS AND CRESSIDA, A. 4, S. 5. 



AGE DISCOVERING THE CANKER 

WORM. 
Bhx hath abated me of half my train ; 



WILLI All SHAKESPEARE. 1 9 

Look'd black upon me; struck me with her 

tongue, 
Most serpent-like, upon the very heart : — 
All the stor'd vengeances of heaven fall 
On her ungrateful top ! Strike her young bones, 
Tou taking airs, with lameness ! 
You nimble lightnings, dart your blinding flames 
Into her scornful eyes ! Infect her beauty, 
Tou fen-suck' d fogs, drawn by the powerful sun, 
To fall and blast her pride ! 

KING LEAR, A. 2, S. 4. 



AGE GUIDING YOUTH. 

I oow, 
When the blood burns, how prodigal the soul 
Lends the tongue vows : these blazes, daughter, 
Giving more light than heat, — extinct in both, 
Even in their promise, as it is a making, — 
You must not take for fire. From this time, 
Be somewhat scanter of your maiden presence : 
Set your entreatments at a higher rate, 
Than a command to parley. 

HAMLET, A. 1, S. 3. 



AGONY OF CONSCIOUSNESS. 

At, so, God be wi' you : — Now I am alone. 
O, what a rogue and peasant slave am I ! 
Is it not monstrous, that this player here, 
But in a fiction, in a dream of passion, 
Could force his soul so to his own conceit, 
That from her working, all his visage wann'd ; 
Tears in his eyes, distraction in his aspect, 
A broken voice, and his whole function suiting 



20 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

"With forms to his conceit ? And all for nothing ! 

For Hecuba ? 

What's Heciiba to him, or he to Hecuba^ 

That he should weep for her ? What would he do, 

Had he the motive and the cue for passion, 

That I have ? He would drown the stage with 

tears, 
And cleave the general ear with horrid speech ; 
Make mad the guilty, and appal the free, 
Confound the ignorant ; and amaze, indeed, 
The very faculties of eyes and ears. 
Yet I, 

A dull and muddy-mettled rascal, peak, 
Like John a-dreams, unpregnant of my cause, 
And can say nothing ; no, not for a king, 
Upon whose property, and most dear life, 
A damn'd defeat was made. Am I a coward ? 
AVho calls me villain ? breaks my pate across ? 
Plucks off my beard, and blows it in my face P 
Tweaks me by the nose ? gives me the lie i' the 

throat, 
As deep as to the lungs ? Who does me this ? 
Ha! 

Why, I should take it : for it cannot be, 
Eut I am pigeon-liver' d, and lack gall 
To make oppression bitter ; or, ere this, 
I should have fatted all the region kites 
With this slave's offal : Bloody, bawdy villain ! 
Remorseless, treacherous, lecherous, kindless vil- 
lain! 
Why, what an ass am I ! This is most brave ; 
That I, the son of a dear father murder' d, 
Prompted to my revenge by heaven and hell, 
Must, like a . wh ore, unpack my heart with words, 
And fall a cursing, like a very drab, 
A scullion ! 



Fye upon't ! foh ! About my brain ! Humph ! 

I have heard, 
That guilty creatures, sitting at a play, 
Have by the very cunning of the scene 
Been struck so to the soul, that presently 
They have proclaim' d their malefactions ; 
For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak 
With most miraculous organ. I'll have these 

players 
Play something like the murder of my father, 
Before mine uncle : I'll observe his looks ; 
I'll tent him to the quick ; if he do blench, 
I know my course. The spirit that I have seen, 
May be a devil : and the devil hath power 
To assume a pleasing shape : yea, and, perhaps, 
Out of my weakness, and my melancholy, 
(As he is very potent with such spirits,) 
Abuses me to damn me : I'll have grounds 
More relative than this : The play's the thing, 
Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king. 

HAMLET, A. 2, S. 2. 



ALL IS NOT GOLD THAT GLITTERS. 

Poetia. Go, draw aside the curtains, and 
discover 
The several caskets to this noble prince : — 
Now make your choice. 

Moeocco. The first, of gold, who this in- 
scription bears ; — 
Who cJiooseth me, shall gain what many men desire. 
The second, silver, which this promise carries ; — 
Who cliooseth one, shall get as much as he deserves. 
This third, dull lead, with warning all as blunt; — 



22 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Who chooseth me, must give and hazard all he hath. 
How shall I know if I do choose the right ? 

Pon. The one of them contains my picture, 
prince ; 
If you choose that, then I am yours withal. 

Mob. Some God direct my judgment ! Let 
me see, 
I will survey the inscriptions back again : 
What says this leaden casket ? 
Who chooseth me, must give and hazard all he hath. 
Must give — For what ? for lead ? hazard for lead ? 
This casket threatens : Men, that hazard all, 
Do it in hope of fair advantages : 
A golden mind stoops not to shows of dross ; 
I'll then nor give, nor hazard, aught for lead. 
What says the silver, with her virgin hue ? 
Who chooseth me, shall get as much as he deserves. 
As much as he deserves? — Pause there, Morocco, 
And weigh thy value with an even hand : 
If thou be'st rated by thy estimation, 
Thou dost deserve enough ; and yet enough 
May not extend so far as to the lady ; 
And yet to be afeard of my deserving, 
Were but a weak disabling of myself. 
As much as I deserve ! — Why, that's the lady : 
I do in birth deserve her, and in fortunes, 
In graces, and in qualities of breeding ; 
But more than these, in love I do deserve. 
What if I stray' d no further, but chose here? — 
Let's see once more this saying grav'd in gold : 
Who chooseth me, shall gain what many men desire. 
Why, that's the lady : all the world desires her : 
Prom the four corners of the earth they come, 
To kiss this shrine, this mortal breathing saint. 
The llyrcnnian deserts, and the vasty wilds 
Of wide Arabia, are as through-fares now, 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 23 

For princes to come view fair Portia : 
The wat'ry kingdom, whose ambitious head 
Spits in the face of heaven, is no bar 
To stop the foreign spirits ; but they come, 
As o'er a brook, to see fair Portia. 
One of these three contains her heavenly picture. 
Is't like, that lead contains her ? 'Twere dam- 
nation, 
To think so base a thought : it were too gross 
To rib her cerecloth in the obscure grave. 
Or, shall I think, in silver she's immur'd, 
Being ten times undervalued to try'd gold ? 
O sinful thought ! Never so rich a gem 
"Was set in worse than gold. They have in Eng- 
land 
A coin, that bears the figure of an angel 
Stamped in gold : but that's insculp'd upon ; 
But here an angel in a golden bed 
Lies all within. — Deliver me the key ; 
Here do I choose, and thrive I as I may ! 

Poe. There, take it, prince, and if my form 
lie there, 
Then I am yours. 

\_JECe unlochs the golden casket, 
Mor. hell ! what have we here ? 
A carrion death, within whose empty eye 
There is a written scroll. I'll read the "writing. 
All that glisters is not gold; 
Often have you heard that told: 
Many a man his life hath sold, 
But my outside to behold : 
Gilded tombs do worms infold. 
Sad you been as wise as bold, 
Young in limbs, in judgment old, 
Your answer had not been inscroVd : 
Fare you well ; your suit is cold. 



24 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Cold indeed ; and labour lost : 

Then, farewell, heat ; and, welcome, frost. — 
Portia, adieu ! I have too griev'd a heart 
To take a tedious leave : thus losers part. [Exit. 

Poe. A gentle riddance : Draw the cur- 
tains, go ; 

Let all of his complexion choose me so. 

MERCHANT OF VENICE , A. 2, S. 7. 



ANALOGY OF HUMAN LIFE. 

Theee is a history in all men's lives, 
Figuring the nature of the times deceased : 
The which observ'd, a man may prophecy, 
With a near aim, of the main chance of things 
As yet not come to life ; which in their seeds, 
And w T eak beginnings, lie intreasured. 
Such things become the hatch and brood of time; 
And, by the necessary form of this, 
King Bichard might create a perfect guess, 
That great Northumberland, then false to him, 
Would, of that seed, grow to a greater falseness; 
Which should not find a ground to root upon, 
Unless on you. 

K. HENRY IV., PART II., A. 3, S. 1. 



ANATHEMA AGAINST ABUSE OF 
HOSPITALITY. 

May these add to the number that may scald 

thee! 
Let molten coin be thy damnation, 
Thou disease of a friend, and not himself ! 
Has friendship such a faint and milky heart, 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEABE. 25 

It turns in less than two nights ? you gods, 

I feel my master's passion ! This slave 

Unto his honour, has my lord's meat in him ; 

"Why should it thrive, and turn to nutriment, 

"When he is turn'd to poison ? 

O, may diseases only work upon't ! 

And, when he is sick to death, let not that part 

of nature 
Which my lord paid for, be of any power 
To expel sickness, but prolong his hour ! 

TIMON OF ATHENS, A. 3, S. 1. 



ANATHEMA AGAINST MURDER. 

Set down, set down your honourable load, — 
If honour may be shrouded in a hearse, — 
Whilst I a while obsequiously lament 
The untimely fall of virtuous Lancaster. — 
Poor key-cold figure of a holy king ! 
Pale ashes of the house of Lancaster ! 
Thou bloodless remnant of that royal blood ! 
Be it lawful that I invocate thy ghost, 
To hear the lamentations of poor Anne, 
Wife to thy Edward, to thy slaughtered son, 
Stabb'd by the self-same hand that made these 

wounds ! 
Lo, in these windows, that let forth thy life, 
I pour the helpless balm of my poor eyes : — 
0, cursed be the hand, that made these holes ! 
Cursed the heart, that had the heart to do it ! 
Cursed the blood, that let this blood from hence! 
More direful hap betide that hated wretch, 
That makes us wretched by the death of thee, 
Than I can wish to adders, spiders, toads, 
Or any creeping venom' d thing that lives! 



26 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

If ever lie have child, abortive be it, 

Prodigious, and untimely brought to light, 

Whose ugly and unnatural aspect 

May fright the hopeful mother at the view ; 

And that be heir to his unhappiness ! 

If ever he have wife, let her be made 

More miserable by the death of him, 

Than I am made by my young lord, and thee! — 

Come, now, toward Chertsey with your holy load, 

Taken from EauVs to be interr'd there ; 

And still, as you are weary of the weight, 

Rest you, whiles I lament king Henry's corse. 

K. RICHARD III., A. 1, S. 2. 



ANATHEMA OF JEALOUSY. 

0, at ; as summer flies are in the shambles, 
That quicken even with blowing. O thou weed ! 
Who art so lovely fair, and smell' st so sweet, 
That the sense aches at thee. — 'Would thou 

had'st ne'er been born ! 
Was this fair paper, this most goodly book, 
Made to write whore upon ? What committed ? 
Committed ! — thou public commoner ! 
I should make very forges of my cheeks, 
That would to cinders burn up modesty, 
Did I but speak thy deeds. — What committed ? 
Heaven stops the nose at it, and the moon 

winks ; 
The bawdy wind, that kisses all it meets, 
Is hush'd within the hollow mine of earth, 
And will not hear it. 

OTHELLO, A. 4, S. 2. 



WILLIAM SEAKESPEAJRE. 27 

ANATHEMA ON SELF, IF GUILTY. 

O, theis" my best blood turn 
To an infected jelly ; and my name 
Be yok'd with bis, tbat did betray the Best ! 
Turn then my freshest reputation to 
A savour, that may strike the dullest nostril 
Where I arrive ; and my approach be shunn'd, 
Nay, hated too, worse than the great' st infection 
That e'er was heard, or read ! 

winter's tale, a. 1, s. 2. 



ANATOMY OF FRIENDSHIP. 

Lokd. Might we but have that happiness, 
my lord, that you would once use our hearts, 
whereby we might express some part of our 
zeals, we should think ourselves for ever perfect. 

TiMOtf. O, no doubt, my good friends ; but 
the gods themselves have provided that I shall 
have much help from you : How had you been 
my friends else ? why have you that charitable 
title from thousands, did you not chiefly belong 
to my heart ? I have told more of you to my- 
self, than you can with modesty speak in your 
own behalf; and thus far I confirm you. 0, 
you gods, think I, what need we have any 
friends, if we should ne'er have need of them ? 
they were the most needless creatures living, 
should we ne'er have use for them : and would 
most resemble sweet instruments hung up in 
cases, that keep their sounds to themselves. 
Why, I have often wished myself poorer, that I 
might come nearer to you. We are born to do 
benefits; and what better or properer can we 
call our own, than the riches of our friends? 



28 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

O, what a precious comfort 'tis, to have so 
many, like brothers, commanding one another's 
fortunes ! joy, e'en made away ere it can be 
born! Mine eyes cannot hold out water, me- 
thinks ; to forget their faults, I drink to you. 

TIMON OF ATHENS, A. 1, S. 2. 



AN OLD SINNER ACTING THE 
CHARACTER OF VIRTUE. 

Harut, I do not only marvel where thou 
spendest thy time, but also how thou art accom- 
panied : for though the camomile, the more it is 
trodden on, the faster it grows, yet youth, the 
more it is wasted, the sooner it wears. That 
thou art my son, I have partly thy mother's 
word, partly my own opinion; but chiefly, a 
villainous trick of thine eye, and a foolish hang- 
ing of thy nether lip, that doth warrant me. 
If, then, thou be son tome, here lies the point; — 
Why, being son to me, art thou so pointed at ? 
Shall the blessed sun of heaven prove a micher, 
and eat blackberries ? a question not to be asked. 
Shall the son of England prove a thief, and take 
purses ? a question to be asked. There is a 
thing, Harry ; which thou hast often heard of, 
and it is known to many in our land by the 
name of pitch : this pitch, as ancient writers do 
report, doth defile ; so doth the company thou 
keepest : for, Harry, now I do not speak to thee 
in drink, but in tears ; not in pleasure, but in 
pa'ssion ; not in words only, but in woes also : — 
And yet there is a virtuous man, whom I have 
often noted in thy company, but I know not his 
name. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 29 

A good portly man, i'faith, and a corpulent ; 
of a cheerful look, a pleasing eye, and a most 
noble carriage; and, as I think, his age some 
fifty, or, by'r-lady, inclining to threescore ; and, 
now I remember me, his name is Falstqffi: if 
that man should be lewdly given, he deceiveth 
me; for, Harry, I see virtue in his looks. If 
then the tree may be known by the fruit, as the 
fruit by the tree, then, peremptorily I speak it, 
there is virtue in that Ealstaff: him keep with, 
the rest banish. And tell me now, thou naughty 
varlet, tell me, where hast thou been this 
month ? 

K. HENRY IV., PART I., A. 2, S. 4. 



AN OVER GENEROUS NATURE RE- 
ACTING AGAINST ITSELF. 

O, blessed breeding sun, draw from the earth 
Rotten humidity; below thy sister's orb 
Infect the air ! Twinn' d brothers of one womb, — 
Whose procreation, residence, and birth, 
Scarce is dividant, — touch them with several 

fortunes ; 
The greater scorns the lesser : Not nature, 
To whom all sores lay siege, can bear great 

fortune, 
But by contempt of nature. 
Raise me this beggar, and denude that lord : 
The senator shall bear contempt hereditary, 
The beggar native honour. 
It is the pasture lards the brother's sides, 
The want that makes him lean. "Who dares, 

who dares, 



3 o THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

In purity of manhood stand upright, 
And say, This man's a flatterer ? if one be, 
So are they all ; for every grize of fortune 
Is smooth' d by that below: the learned pate 
Ducks to the golden fool : All is oblique ; 
There's nothing level in our cursed natures, 
But direct villainy. Therefore, be abhorr'd 
All feasts, societies, and throngs of men ! 
His semblable, yea, himself, Timon disdains : 
Destruction fang mankind! — Earth, yield me 

roots ! [Digging. 

Who seeks for better of thee, sauce his palate 
With thy most operant poison ! What is here ? 
Grold? yellow, glittering, precious gold? No, 

gods, 
I am no idle votarist. Eoots, you clear heavens! 
Thus much of this, will make black, white ; foul, 

fair; 
Wrong, right ; base, noble ; old, young ; coward, 

valiant. 
Ha, you gods! why this? What this, you gods? 

Why, this 
Will lug your priests and servants from your 

sides ; 
Pluck stout men's pillows from below their 

heads : 
This yellow slave 

Will knit and break religions ; bless the accurs'd; 
Make the hoar leprosy ador'd; place thieves, 
And give them title, knee, and approbation, 
With senators on the bench : this is it, 
That makes the wappen'd widow wed again ; 
She, whom the spital-house, and ulcerous sores 
Would cast the gorge at, this embalms and 

spices 
To the April day again. Come, damned earth, 



WILLIAM SSAKUSPJEABU. 31 

Thou common whore of mankind, that put'st 

odds 
Among the rout of nations, I will make thee 
Do thy right nature. — [March afar off.~\ — Ha ! 

a drum ? — Thou'rt quick, 
But yet I'll bury thee : Thou'lt go, strong thief, 
When gouty keepers of thee cannot stand : — 
Nay, stay thou out, for earnest. 

[Keeping some gold. 

TIMOX OF ATHENS, A. 4, S. 3. 



ANTAGONISM OF THE SOLDIER AND 
THE PRIEST. 

You are for dreams and slumbers, brother priest, 
You fur your gloves with reason. Here are your 

reasons : 
You know, an enemy intends you harm ; 
You know, a sword employed is perilous, 
And reason flies the object of all harm : 
"Who marvels, then, when Helenus beholds 
A Grecian and his sword, if he do set 
The very wings of reason to his heels, 
And fly like chidden Mercury from Jove, 
Or like a star dis-orb'd ? — Nay, if we talk of 

reason, 
Let's shut our gates, and sleep : Manhood and 

honour 
Should have hare hearts, would they but fat 

their thoughts 
With this cramm'd reason ; reason and respect 
Make livers pale, and lustihood deject. 

TROILUS AND CRESSIDA, A. 2, S. 2. 



32 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

ANTAGONISM OF THE SPLEENS. 

Benedick. But it is certain, I am loved of 
all ladies, only you excepted: and I would I 
could find in my heart that I had not a hard 
heart : for, truly, I love none. 

Beateice. A dear happiness to women; 
they would else have been troubled with a 
pernicious suitor. I thank Grod, and my cold 
blood, I am of your humour for that ; I had 
rather hear my dog bark at a crow, than a man 
swear he loves me. 

Bene. Grod keep your ladyship still in that 
mind ! so some gentleman or other shall 'scape 
a predestinate scratched face. 

Beat. Scratching could not make it worse, 
an 'twere such a face as yours were. 

Bene. Well, you are a rare parrot-teacher. 

Beat. A bird of my tongue is better than 
a beast of yours. 

Bene. I would, my horse had the speed of 
your tongue; and so good a continuer: But 
keep your way o' Grod's name ; I have done. 

Beat. Tou always end with a jade's trick ; 
I know you of old. 

MUCH ADO, A. 1, S. 1. 



ANTECEDENTS IMPORTANT. 

Tuink we king Harry strong ; 
And, princes, look, you strongly arm to meet 

him. 
The kindred of him hath been fleshed upon us ; 
And he is bred out of that bloody strain, 
That haunted us in our familiar paths : 
Witness our too much memorable shame, 



WILLIAM SHAXJESPUABU. 3 3 

When Cressy battle fatally was struck, 

And all our princes captiv'd, by the hand 

Of that black name, Edward black prince of 

Wales ; 
Whiles that his mountain sire, — on mountain 

standing, 
Up in the air, crown' d with the golden sun, — 
Saw his heroical seed, and smil'd to see him 
Mangle the work of nature, and deface 
The patterns that by God and by French fathers 
Had twenty years been made. This is a stem 
Of that victorious stock ; and let us fear 
The native mightiness and fate of him. 

K. HENRY V., A. 2, S. 4. 



APPEARANCES SUPPORT RANK. 

C^sar. Why have you stol'n upon us thus? 

Tou come not 
Like Caesar's sister : The wife of Antony 
Should have an army for an usher, and 
The neighs of horse to tell of her approach, 
Long ere she did appear ; the trees by the way 
Should have borne men ; and expectation fainted, 
Longing for what it had not : nay, the dust 
Should have ascended to the roof of heaven, 
Eais'd by your populous troops : But you are 

come 
A market-maid to Borne ; and have prevented 
The ostent of our love, which, left unshown, 
Is often left unlov'd : we should have met you 
By sea and land ; supplying every stage 
With an augmented greeting. 

ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA, A. 3, S. 6. 



34 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

ART VERSUS NATURE. 

Ltjculltts. Draw nearer, honest Flaminius. 
Thy lord's a bountiful gentleman : but thou art 
wise ; and thou knowest well enough, although 
thou comest to me, that this is no time to lend 
money ; especially upon bare friendship, without 
security. Here's three solidares for thee ; good 
boy, wink at me, and say, thou saw'st me not. 
Tare thee well. 

Flaminius. Is't possible, the world should 
so much differ : 
And we alive, thatliv'd ? Ply, damned baseness, 
To him that worships thee. 

[Throwing the money away, 

Ltjcul. Ha! now I see, thou art a fool, and 
fit for thy master. 

TIMON OF ATHENS, A. 3, S. 1. 



ASSIMILATION OF NATURE AND 

CHARACTER. 

I never did repent for doing good, 
Nor shall not now : for in companions 
That do converse and waste the time together, 
Whose souls do bear an equal yoke of love, 
There must be needs a like proportion 
Of lineaments, of manners, and of spirit ; 
Which makes me think, that this Antonio, 
Being the bosom lover of my lord, 
Must needs be like my lord : If it be so, 
How little is the cost I have bestow' d, 
In purchasing the semblance of my soul 
From out the state of hellish cruelty ? 
This comes too near the praising of myself; 
Therefore, no more of it. 

MERCHANT OF VENICE, A. 3, S. 4. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 3 5 

AVAEICE KILLS THE SOUL, AS IN- 
TEMPERANCE KILLS THE BODY. 

Jessica. I am sorry, thou wilt leave my 
father so ; 
Our house is hell, and thou, a merry devil, 
Didst rob it of some taste of tediousness : 
But fare thee well : there is a ducat for thee. 
And, Launcelot, soon at supper shalt thou see 
Lorenzo, who is thy new master's guest : 
Give him this letter ; do it secretly, 
And so farewell ; I would not have my father 
See me talk with thee. 

Latjncelot. Adieu ! — tears exhibit my 
tongue. — 
Most beautiful pagan, — most sweet Jew ! If a 
Christian do not play the knave, and get thee, I 
am much deceived : But, adieu ! these foolish 
drops do somewhat drown my manly spirit; 
adieu ! 

Jes. Farewell, good Launcelot. 
Alack, what heinous sin is it in me, 
To be asham'd to be my father's child! 
But though I am a daughter to his blood, 
I am not to his manners : Lorenzo, 
If thou keep promise, I shall end this strife ; 
Become a Christian, and thy loving wife. 

MERCHANT OF VENICE, A. 2, S. 3. 



AVOID ENGENDERING EVIL. 

Hate patience, sir, O, let it not be so ; 
Herein you war against your reputation, 
And draw within the compass of suspect 
The unviolated honour of your wife. 



36 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Once this, — Tour long experience of her wisdom, 

Her sober virtue, years, and modesty, 

Plead on her part some cause to you unknown ; 

And doubt not, sir, but she will well excuse 

Why at this time the doors are made against you. 

Be rul'd by me ; depart in patience, 

And let us to the Tiger all to dinner : 

And, about evening, come yourself alone, 

To know the reason of this strange restraint. 

If by strong hand you offer to break in, 

Now in the stirring passage of the day, 

A vulgar comment will be made on it ; 

And that supposed by the common rout 

Against your yet ungalled estimation, 

That may with foul intrusion enter in, 

And dwell upon your grave when you are dead : 

For slander lives upon succession ; 

For ever hous'd, where it once gets possession. 

COMEDY OF ERRORS, A. 3, S, 1. 



AVOID TEMPTATION. 

Take heed o'the foul fiend : Obey thy parents ; 
keep thy word justly ; swear not ; commit not 
with man's sworn spouse; set not thy sweet 
heart on proud array. 

"What hast thou been ? 

A serving man, proud in heart and mind; 
that curled my hair; wore gloves in my cap, 
served the lust of my mistress's heart, and did 
the act of darkness with her; swore as many 
oaths as I spake words, and broke them in the 
sweet face of heaven : one, that slept in the con- 
triving of lust, and waked to do it : Wine loved 
I deeply; dice dearly; and in woman, out- 



WILLIAM SKALCESPEARK 3 7 

paramoured the Turk : False of heart, light of 
ear, bloody of hand ; Hog in sloth, fox in stealth, 
wolf in greediness, dog in madness, lion in prey. 
Let not the creaking of shoes, nor the rustling 
of silks, betray thy poor heart to women : Keep 
thy foot out of brothels, thy hand out of plackets, 
thy pen from lenders' books, and defy the foul 
fiend. 

KING LEAR, A. 3, S. 4. 



A WARM HEART IN THE HOST 
DOUBLES THE VALUE OF THE 
FEAST. 

My royal lord, 
Tou do not give the cheer ; the feast is cold, 
That is not often vouch' d, while 'tis a making, 
'Tis given with welcome : To feed, were best at 

home; 
From thence, the sauce to meat is ceremony, 
Meeting were bare without it. 

MACBETH, A. 3, S. 4. 



BANE OF CIVIL DISSENSIONS. 

Lest Borne herself be bane unto herself; 
And she, whom mighty kingdoms court' sy to, 
Like a forlorn and desperate cast-away, 
Do shameful execution on herself. 
But if my frosty signs and chaps of age, 
Grave witnesses of true experience, 
Cannot induce you to attend my words, — 
Speak, Borne' s dear friend ; as erst our ancestor, 
When with his solemn tongue he did discourse, 
To love-sick Dido's sad attending ear, 



38 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

The story of that baleful burning night, 
"When subtle Greeks surpriz'd king Priam's 

Troy ; 
Tell us, what Sinon hath bewitched our ears, 
Or who hath brought the fatal engine in, 
That gives our Troy, our Borne, the civil wound. — 
My heart is not compact of flint, nor steel ; 
Nor can I utter all our bitter grief, 
But floods of tears will drown my oratory, 
And break my very utterance ; even i'the time 
"When it should move you to attend me most, 
Lending your kind commiseration. 

TITUS ANDRONICUS, A. 5, S. 3. 



BANISHMENT CONTENTED. 

Toue will be done ; this must my comfort be, 

That sun, that warms you here, shall shine on me; 
And those his golden beams, to you here lent, 
Shall point on me, and gild my banishment. 

K. RICHARD II., A. 1, S. 3. 



BANISHMENT NOT CONTENT. 

A heayt sentence, my most sovereign liege, 
And all unlook'd for from your highness' mouth: 
A dearer merit, not so deep a maim 
As to be cast forth in the common air, 
Have I deserved at your highness' hand. 
The language I have learn' d these forty years, 
My native English, now I must forego : 
And now my tongue's use is to me no more 
Than an unstringed viol, or a harp ; 
Or like a cunning instrument cas'd up, 



WILLIAM S3AKESPEARE. 39 

Or, being open, put into his hands 

That knows no touch to tune the harmony. 

"Within my mouth you have engaol'd my tongue, 

Doubly portcullis' d, with my teeth, and lips ; 

And dull, unfeeling, barren ignorance 

Is made my gaoler to attend on me. 

I am too old to fawn upon a nurse, 

Too far in years to be a pupil now ; 

"What is thy sentence, then, but speechless 

death, 
Which robs my tongue from breathing native 

breath ? 
Then thus I turn me from my country's light, 
To dwell in solemn shades of endless night. 

K. RICHARD II., A. 1, S. 3. 



BATTERY OF AN ELDERLY SINNER. 

Thotj art violently carried away from grace : 
there is a devil haunts thee, in the likeness of a 
fat old man : a tun of man is thy companion. 
Why dost thou converse with that trunk of 
humours, that bolting-hutch of beastliness, that 
swoln parcel of dropsies, that huge bombard of 
sack, that stuffed cloak-bag of guts, that roasted 
Manningtree ox with the pudding in his belly, 
that reverend vice, that grey iniquity, that father 
ruffian, that vanity in years! WTierein is he 
good, but to taste sack and drink it? wherein 
neat and cleanly, but to carve a capon and eat it ? 
wherein cunning, but in craft ? wherein crafty, 
but in villainy? wherein villainous, but in all 
things ? wherein worthy, but in nothing ? 

K. HENBY IV., PART I., A. 2, S. 4. 



40 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 



BEAR AND FORBEAR 

You undergo too strict a paradox, 

Striving to make an ugly deed look fair : 

Tour words have took such pains, as if they 

lab our' d 
To bring manslaughter into form, set quarrelling 
Upon the head of valour ; which, indeed, 
Is valour misbegot, and came into the world 
When sects and factions were newly born : 
He's truly valiant, that can wisely suffer 
The worst that man can breathe ; and make his 

wrongs 
His outsides ; wear them like his raiment, care- 
lessly ; 
And ne'er prefer his injuries to his heart, 
To bring it into danger. 
If wrongs be evils, and enforce us kill, 
What folly 'tis, to hazard life for ill ? 
You cannot make gross sins look clear ; 
To revenge is no valour, but to bear. 

TIMON OF ATHENS, A. 3, S. 5. 



BEAUTY AND GOODNESS IN 

SORROW. 

She took them, read them in my presence ; 

And now and then an ample tear trill' d down 

Her delicate cheek: it seem'd, she was a queen 

Over her passion ; who, most rebel-like, 

Sought to be the king o'er her. 

Patience and sorrow strove 

Who should express her goodliest. You have 

seen 
Sunshine and rain at once : her smiles and tears 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 41 

"Were like a better day : Those happy smiles, 
That play'd on her ripe lip, seem'd not to know 
What guests were in her eyes; which parted 

thence, 
As pearls from diamonds dropp'd. — In brief, 

sorrow 
"Would be a rarity most belov'd, if all 
Could so become it. 

Once, or twice, she heav'd the name of father 
Pantingly forth, as if it press' d her heart ; 
Cried, Sisters! sisters! — Shame of ladies! sisters! 
Kent! father! sisters! What i'the storm? i'the 

night ? 
Let pity not be heliev'd! — There she shook 
The holy water from her heavenly eyes, 
And clamour moisten' d : — then away she started 
To deal with grief alone. 

It is the stars, 
The stars above us, govern our conditions ; 
Else one self mate and mate could not beget 
Such different issues. 

KING LEAR, A. 4, S. 3. 



BEAUTY AND VIRTUE'S ANGER 
WITH UGLINESS AND SIN. 

What, do you tremble ? are you all afraid ? 
Alas, I blame you not ; for you are mortal, 
And mortal eyes cannot endure the devil. — 
Avaunt, thou dreadful minister of hell ! 
Thou had'st but power over his mortal body, 
His soul thou canst not have ; therefore, be gone. 
Eoul devil, for God's sake, hence, and trouble us 

not; 
Eor thou hast made the happy earth thy hell, 



42 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Fill'd it with cursing cries, and deep exclaims. 
If thou delight to view thy heinous deeds, 
Behold this pattern of thy butcheries : 
O, gentlemen, see, see ! dead Henry's wounds 
Open their congeal' d mouths, and bleed afresh! 
Blush, blush, thou lump of foul deformity ; 
For 'tis thy presence that exhales this blood 
From cold and empty veins, where no blood 

dwells ; 
Thy deed, inhuman and unnatural, 

Provokes this deluge most unnatural. 

God, which this blood mad' st, revenge his death ! 
O earth, which this blood drink' st, revenge his 

death ! 
Either, heaven, with lightning strike the mur- 
derer dead, 
Or, earth, gape open wide, and eat him quick ; 
As thou dost swallow up this good king's blood, 
"Which his hell-govern' d arm hath butchered! 

K. RICHARD III., A. 1, S. 2. 



BEAUTY AND YIBTUE INDIGNANT 

AT MAN'S BASENESS. 

Awat ! — I do condemn mine ears, that have 
So long attended thee. — If thou wert honourable, 
Thou would' st have told this tale for virtue, not 
For such an end thou seek'st ; as base, as strange. 
Thou wrong' st a gentleman, who is as far 
From thy report, as thou from honour ; and 
Solicit' st here a lady, that disdains 
Thee and the devil alike. — What ho ! Pisanio ! — 
The king my father shall be made acquainted 
Of thy assault : if he shall think it fit, 
A saucy stranger, in his court, to mart 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 43 

As in a Romish stew, and to expound 
His beastly mind to us ; he hath a court 
He little cares for, and a daughter whom 
He not respects at all. — What ho, Pisanio! 

CYMBELINE, A. 1,S. 7. 



BEAUTY A WITCH, MUCH GIVEN 
TO WITCHCRAFT. 

'Tis certain so ; — the prince woos for himself. 
[Friendship is constant in all other things, 
Save in the office and affairs of love : 
Therefore, all hearts in love use their own tongues ; 
Let every eye negotiate for itself, 
And trust no agent : for beauty is a witch, 
Against whose charms faith melteth into blood. 
This is an accident of hourly proof. 

MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING, A. 2, S. 1. 



BEAUTY, EARTH'S CONSERVATOR. 

Who sees the heavenly Rosaline, 
That, like a rude and savage man of Inde, 

At the first opening of the gorgeous east, 
Bows not his vassal head ; and, strucken blind, 

Kisses the base ground with obedient breast ? 
What peremptory eagle-sighted eye 
Dares look upon the heaven of her brow, 
That is not blinded by her majesty ? 
O, but for my love, day would turn to night ! 
Of all complexions the cull'd sovereignty 

Do meet, as at a fair, in her fair cheek ; 
Where several worthies make one dignity ; 

Where nothing wants, that want itself doth 
seek. 



44 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Lend me the flourish of all gentle tongues, — 

Fye, painted rhetorick ! 0, she needs it not ; 
To things of sale a seller's praise belongs ; 

She passes praise: then praise too short 
doth blot. 
A wither' d hermit, five-score winters worn, 
Might shake off fifty, looking in her eye : 
Beauty doth varnish age, as if new-born, 
And gives the crutch the cradle's infancy. 
O, 'tis the sun, that maketh all things shine ! 
0, who can give an oath ? where is a book ? 

That I may swear, beauty doth beauty lack : 
If that she learn not of her eye to look. 

love's labour lost, a. 4, s. 3. 



BEAUTY LIVES WITH KINDNESS. 

And may it be that you have quite forgot 

A husband's office ? shall, Antipholus, hate, 
Even in the spring of love, thy love-springs rot ? 

Shall love, in building, grow so ruinate ? 
If you did wed my sister for her wealth, 

Then, for her wealth's sake, use her with more 
kindness : 
Or, if you like elsewhere, do it by stealth ; 

Muffle your false love with some show of 
blindness : 
Let not my sister read it in your eye ; 

Be not thy tongue thy own shame's orator; 
Look sweet, speak fair, become disloyalty ; 

Apparel vice like virtue's harbinger : 
Bear a fair presence, though your heart be tainted; 

Teach sin the carriage of a holy saint ; 
Be secret-false : What need she be acquainted ? 

What simple thief brags of his own attaint ? 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 45 

'Tis double wrong, to truant with your bed, 

And let her read it in thy looks at board : 
Shame hath a bastard fame, well managed ; 

111 deeds are doubled with an evil word. 
Alas, poor women ! make us but believe, 

Being compact of credit, that you love us ; 
Though others have the arm, show us the sleeve ; 

"We in your motion turn, and you may move us. 
Then, gentle brother, get you in again ; 

Comfort my sister, cheer her, call her wife : 
'Tis holy sport, to be a little vain, 

When the sweet breath of flattery conquers 
strife. 

COMEDY OF ERRORS, A. 3, S. 2. 



BEAUTY'S PORTRAIT. 

What demi-god 
Hath come so near creation ? Move these eyes ? 
Or whether, riding on the balls of mine, 
Seem they in motion ? Here are sever' d lips, 
Parted with sugar breath ; so sweet a bar 
Should sunder such sweet friends : Here in her 

hairs 
The painter plays the spider ; and hath woven 
A golden mesh to entrap the hearts of men, 
Paster than gnats in cobwebs : But her eyes, — 
How could he see to do them ? having made one, 
Methinks, it should have power to steal both his, 
And leave itself unfurnish'd : Yet look, how far 
The substance of my praise doth wrong this 

shadow 
In underprizing it, so far this shadow 
Doth limp behind the substance. 

MERCHANT OF VENICE, A. 3, S. 2. 



46 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

BEAUTY, VIRTUE, FIDELITY, AND 
PRINCIPLE OVERCOME BY CUN- 
NING FLATTERY. 

G-loster. Lady, you know no rules of charity, 
"Which renders good for bad, blessings for curses, 

Anne. Villain, thou know'st no law of God 
nor man ; 
No beast so fierce but knows some touch of pity. 

Gtlo. But I know none, and therefore am no 
beast. 

Anne . O wonderful, when devils tell the truth ! 

Gtlo. More wonderful when angels are so 
angry.— ^ 
Vouchsafe, divine perfection of a woman, 
Of these supposed evils, to give me leave, 
By circumstance, but to acquit myself. 

Anne. Vouchsafe, diffus'd infection of a man, 
For these known evils, but to give me leave, 
By circumstance, to curse thy cursed self. 

Gtlo. Fairer than tongue can name thee, let 
me have 
Some patient leisure to excuse myself. 

Anne. Fouler than heart can think thee, 
thou canst make 
No excuse current, but to hang thyself. 

Gtlo. By such despair, I should accuse myself. 

Anne. And, by despairing, shalt thou stand 
excus'd ; 
For doing worthy vengeance on thyself, 
That didst unworthy slaughter upon others. 

Gtlo. Say, that I slew them not ? 

Anne. "Why then, they are not dead: 

But dead they are, and, devilish slave, by thee. 

Gtlo. I did not kill your husband. 

Anne. Why, then he is alive. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 47 

G-lo. Nay, lie is dead ; and slain by Edward's 

hand. 
Anne. In thy soul's throat thou liest ; queen 
Margaret saw 
Thy murderous faulchion smoking in his blood ; 
The which thou once didst bend against her 

breast, 
But that thy brothers beat aside the point. 
Gtlo. I was provoked by her sland'rous 
tongue, 
That laid their guilt upon my guiltless shoulders. 
Anne. Thou wast provoked by thy bloody 
mind, 
That never dreamt on aught but butcheries : 
Didst thou not kill this king ? 

Gtlo. I grant ye. 

Anne. Dost grant me, hedge-hog ? then, God 
grant me too, 
Thou may'st be damned for that wicked deed ! 
O, he was gentle, mild, and virtuous. 

G-lo. The fitter for the King of heaven that 

hath him. 
Anne. He is in heaven, where thou shalt 

never come. 
G-lo. Let him thank me, that holp to send 
him thither ; 
For he was fitter for that place, than earth. 
Anne. And thou unfit for any place, but hell. 
G-lo. Tes, one place else, if you will hear me 

name it. 
Anne. Some dungeon. 
G-lo. Tour bed-chamber. 

Anne . Ill rest betide the chamber where thou 

liest ! 
Gtlo. So will it, madam, till I lie with you. 
Anne. I hope so. 



48 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Glo. I know so. — But, gentle lady Anne, — 
To leave this keen encounter of our wits, 
And fall somewhat into a slower method ; — 
Is not the causer of the timeless deaths 
Of these Plantagenets, Henry, and Edward, 
As blameful as the executioner ? 

Anne. Thou wast the cause, and most ac- 
curs'd effect. 

G-lo. Tour beauty was the cause of that effect ; 
Tour beauty, which did haunt me in my sleep, 
To undertake the death of all the world, 
So I might live one hour in your sweet bosom. 

Anne. If I thought that, I tell thee, homicide, 
These nails should rend that beauty from my 
cheeks. 

G-lo. These eyes could not endure that 
beauty's wreck, 
Tou should not blemish it if I stood by : 
As all the world is cheered by the sun, 
So I by that ; it is my day, my life. 

Anne. Black night o'ershade thy day, and 
death thy life ! 

G-lo. Curse not thyself, fair creature ; thou 
art both. 

Anne. I would I were, to be reveng'd on thee. 

Glo. It is a quarrel most unnatural, 
To be reveng'd on him that loveth thee. 

Anne. It is a quarrel just and reasonable, 
To be reveng'd on him that kill'd my husband. 

Glo. He that bereft thee, lady, of thy husband, 
Did it to help thee to a better husband. 

Anne. His better doth not breathe upon the 
earth. 

Glo. He lives that loves you better than he 
could. 

Anne. Name him. 



WILLIJJI SSAXUSFUABU. 49 

GrLO. Plantagenet. 

Anne. Why that was he. 

GrLO. The self-same name, but one of better 

nature. 
Anne. Where is he ? 
GrLO. Here : [She spits at hint] Why 

dost thou spit at me ? 
Anne. 'Would it were mortal poison, for thy 

sake ! 
GrLO. Never came poison from so sweet a place. 
Anne. Never hung poison on a fouler toad. 
Out of my sight ! thou dost infect mine eyes. 
GrLO. Thine eyes, sweet lady, have infected 

mine. 
Anne. 'Would they were basilisks, to strike 

thee dead ! 
Glo. I would they were, that I might die at 
once; 
For now they kill me with a living death. 
Those eyes of thine from mine have drawn salt 

tears, 
Sham'd their aspects with store of childish drops : 
These eyes, which never shed remorseful tear, — 
Not, when my father York and Edward wept, 
To hear the piteous moan that Rutland made, 
When black-faced Clifford shook his sword at him : 
Nor when thy warlike father, like a child, 
Told the sad story of my father's death ; 
And twenty times made pause, to sob, and weep, 
That all the standers-by had wet their cheeks, 
Like trees bedash' d with rain : in that sad time, 
My manly eyes did scorn an humble tear ; 
And what these sorrows could not thence exhale, 
Thy beauty hath, and made them blind with 

weeping. 
I never su'd to friend, nor enemy ; 

E 



50 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

My tongue could never learn sweet soothing 

word ; 
But now thy beauty is propos'd my fee, 
My proud heart sues, and prompts my tongue to 
speak. [She looks scornfully at him. 

Teach not thy lip such scorn ; for it was made 
For kissing, lady, not for such contempt. 
If thy revengeful heart cannot forgive, 
Lo ! here I lend thee this sharp-pointed sword ; 
"Which if thou please to hide in this true breast, 
And let the soul forth that adoreth thee, 
I lay it naked to the deadly stroke, 
And humbly beg the death upon my knee. 

[He lays his breast open ; she offers at it 
with his sword, 
Nay, do not pause; for I did kill king Henry: — 
But 'twas thy beauty that provoked me. 
Nay, now despatch ; 'twas I that stabb'd young 
Edward: — \_She again offers at his breast. 
But 'twas thy heavenly face that set me on. 

[She lets fall the sword. 
Take up the sword again, or take up me. 

Anne. Arise, dissembler : though I wish thy 
death, 
I will not be thy executioner. 

Glo. Then bid me kill myself, and I will 

do it. 
Anne. I have already. 
Glo. That was in thy rage : 

Speak it again, and even with the word, 
This hand, which, for thy love, did kill thy love, 
Shall, for thy love, kill a far truer love ; 
To both their deaths shalt thou be accessary. 
Anne. I would, I knew thy heart. 
Glo. 'Tis figur'd in 

My tongue. 



WILLIAM SSAKUSPJEASU. 5 1 

Anistj. I fear me, both are false. 

G-lo. Then man 

Was never true. 

Aotte. Well, well, put up your sword. 

G-lo. Say then, my peace is made. 

AffffE. That shall you know 

Hereafter. 

G-lo. But shall I live in hope ? 

An-ne. All men, 

I hope, live so. 

G-lo. Vouchsafe to wear this ring. 

Amte. To take, is not to give. 

[She puts on the ring. 

G-lo. Look, how this ring encompasseth thy 
finger, 
Even so thy breast encloseth my poor heart ; 
"Wear both of them, for both of them are thine. 
And if thy poor devoted servant may 
But beg one favour at thy gracious hand, 
Thou dost confirm his happiness for ever. 

Akke. What is it ? 

G-lo. That it may please you leave these sad 
designs 
To him that hath more cause to be a mourner, 
And presently repair to Crosby -place : 
Where — after I have solemnly interr'd, 
At Chertsey monast'ry, this noble king, 
And wet his grave with my repentant tears> — 
I will with all expedient duty see you : 
For divers unknown reasons, I beseech you, 
Grant me this boon. 

Akne. With all my heart ; and much it joys 
me too, 
To see you are become so penitent.— 
Tressel, and. Berkley, go along with me. 

Glo. Bid me farewell. 



52 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Anne. 'Tis more than you deserve : 

But, since you teach me how to natter you, 
Imagine I have said farewell already. 

K. RICHARD III, A. 1, S. 2. 



BEAUTY WITHOUT PRINCIPLE. 

Mine eyes 
"Were not in fault, for she was beautiful ; 
Mine ears, that heard her flattery ; nor my heart, 
That thought her like her seeming : it had been 

vicious, 
To have mistrusted her. 

CYMBELINE, A. 5, S. 5. 



BEGETTING A KNOWLEDGE OF 
HUMAN NATURE. 

I know you all, and will awhile uphold 

The unyok'd humour of your idleness ; 

Yet herein will I imitate the sun ; 

Who doth permit the base contagious clouds 

To smother up his beauty from the world, 

That when he please again to be himself, 

Being wanted, he may be more wondered at, 

By breaking through the foul and ugly mists 

Of vapours, that did seem to strangle him. 

If all the year were playing holidays, 

To sport would be as tedious as to work ; 

But, when they seldom come, they wish' d-for come, 

And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents. 

So, when this loose behaviour I throw off, 

And pay the debt I never promised, 

By how much better than my word I am, 

By so much shall I falsify men's hopes ; 



And, like bright metal on a sullen ground, 
My reformation, glittering o'er my fault, 
Shall show more goodly, and attract more eyes, 
Than that which hath no foil to set it off. 
I'll so offend, to make offence a skill ; 
Redeeming time, when men think least I will. 

K. HENRY IT., PART II., A. 1, S. 2. 



BEGGING A PARENTS PRAYERS. 

thott, the earthly author of my blood, — 

Whose youthful spirit, in me regenerate, 

Doth with a two-fold vigour lift me up 

To reach at victory above my head, — 

Add proof unto mine armour with thy prayers ; 

And with thy blessings steel my lance's point. 

K. RICHARD II., A. 1, S. 3. 



BETTER FOR THE HEART TO RE- 
LIEVE THE HEAD, THAN FOR THE 
LATTER TO BREAK THE FORMER. 

I peat thee, cease thy counsel, 
Which falls into mine ears as profitless 
As water in a sieve : give not me counsel ; 
Nor let no comforter delight mine ear, 
But such a one whose wrongs do suit with mine. 
Bring me a father, that so lov'd his child, 
"Whose joy of her is overwhelm' d like mine, 
And bid him speak of patience ; 
Measure his woe the length and breadth of mine, 
And let it answer every strain for strain; 
As thus for thus, and such a grief for such, 
In every lineament, branch, shape, and form : 



54 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

If such a one will smile, and stroke his beard : 
Cry — sorrow, wag! and hem, when he should 

groan ; 
Patch grief with proverbs ; make misfortune 

drunk 
With candle-wasters ; bring him yet to me, 
And I of him will gather patience. 
But there is no such man : For, brother, men 
Can counsel, and speak comfort to that grief 
"Which they themselves not feel ; but, tasting it, 
Their counsel turns to passion, which before 
"Would give preceptial medicine to rage, 
Tetter strong madness in a silken thread, 
Charm ache with air, and agony with words : 
No, no ; 'tis all men's office to speak patience 
To those that wring under the load of sorrow ; 
But no man's virtue, nor sufficiency, 
To be so moral, when he shall endure 
The like himself: therefore give me no counsel: 
My griefs cry louder than advertisement. 

I will be flesh and blood ; 
For there was never yet philosopher, 
That could endure the tooth-ache patiently ; 
However they have writ the style of gods, 
And made a push at chance and sufferance. 

MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING, A. 5, S. 1. 



BETTER NEVER TO RISE, THAN 
HAVE TO FALL. 

Hebe's the pang that pinches. 
His highness having liv'd so long with her : and 

she 
So good a lady, that no tongue could ever 
Pronounce dishonour of her, — by my life, 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 5 5 

She never knew harm-doing ; — now, after 

So many courses of the sun enthron'd, 

Still growing in a majesty and pomp, — the which 

To leave is a thousand-fold more bitter than 

'Tis sweet at first to acquire, — after this process, 

To give her the avaunt ! it is a pity 

"Would move a monster. 

0, God's will! much better, 
She ne'er had known pomp : though it be 

temporal, 
Tet, if that quarrel, fortune, do divorce 
It from the bearer, 'tis a sufferance, panging 
As soul and body's severing. 

So much the more 
Must pity drop upon her. Verily, 
I swear, 'tis better to be lowly born, 
And range with humble livers in content, 
Than to be perk'd up in a glistering grief, 
And wear a golden sorrow. 

K. HENRY VIII., A. 2, S. 3. 



BETTER TAKE THE EVIL WITH THE 
GOOD, THAN INCREASE THE FOR- 
MER BY FURTHER STRIFE. 

Archbishop. No, no, my lord ; Note this, — 
the king is weary 
Of dainty and such picking grievances ; 
For he hath found, — to end one doubt by death, 
Revives two greater in the heirs of life. 
And therefore will he wipe his tables clean ; 
And keep no tell-tale to his memory, 
That may repeat and history his loss 
To new remembrance : For full well he knows, 



56 THJE PHILOSOPHY OF 

He cannot so precisely weed this land, 
As his misdoubts present occasion : 
His foes are so enrooted with his friendc, 
That, plucking to unfix an enemy, 
He doth unfasten so, and shake a friend. 
So that this land, like an offensive wife, 
That hath enrag'd him on to offer strokes ; 
As he is striking, holds his infant up, 
And hangs resolv'd correction in the arm 
That was uprear'd to execution. 

Hastings. Besides, the king hath wasted all 
his rods 
On late offenders, that he now doth lack 
The very instruments of chastisement : 
So that his power, like to a fangless lion, 
May offer, but not hold. 

K. HENRY IV., PART II., A. 4, S. 1. 



BEWARE OF CREATING JEALOUSY 

IN YOUR SUPERIORS. 

Silius, Silius, 
I have done enough : a lower place, note well, 
May make too great an act : For learn this, Silius; 
Better to leave undone, than by our deed acquire 
Too high a fame, when him we serve's away. 
Ccesar, and Antony, have ever won 
More in their officer, than person : Sossius, 
One of my place in Syria, his lieutenant, 
For quick accumulation of renown, 
"Which he achiev'd by the minute, lost his favour. 
Who does i' the wars more than his captain can, 
Becomes his captain's captain : and ambition, 
The soldier's virtue, rather makes choice of loss, 
Than gain, which darkens him. 



WILLIAM SHAKLJSPUAEJE. 57 

I could do more to do Antonius good, 
But 'twould offend him ; and in his offence 
Should my performance perish. 

ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA > A. 3, S. 1. 



BIG HEARTS CANNOT DESCEND TO 
FLATTERY. 

Well said, my noble Scot : If speaking truth, 
In this fine age, were not thought flattery, 
Such attribution should the Douglas have, 
As not a soldier of this season's stamp 
Should go so general current through the world. 
By heaven, I cannot flatter ; I defy 
The tongues of soothers ; but a braver place 
In my heart's love, hath no man than yourself: 
Nay, task me to the word ; approve me, lord. 

K. HENRY IV., PART I., A. 4, S. 1. 



BITTERNESS OF PARTING. 

Hake: ! you are call'd : Some say, the G-enius so 
Cries, Come ! to him that instantly must die. — 
Bid them have patience ; she shall come anon. 

"Where are my tears ? rain, to lay this wind, 
or my heart will be blown up by the root ? 

TROILUS AND CRESSIDA, A. 4, S 4. 



BITTERNESS OF PARTING. 

Ceessida. O you immortal Gods! — I will 
not go. 
I will not, uncle : I have forgot my father ; 



58 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

I know no touch of consanguinity ; 

No kin, no love, no blood, no soul so near me, 

As the sweet Troilus. — O you gods divine ! 

Make Cressid's name the very crown of falsehood, 

If ever she leave Troilus! Time, force, and death, 

Do to this body what extremes you can ; 

But the strong base and building of my love 

Is as the very centre of the earth, 

Drawing all things to it. — I'll go in, and weep ; — 

Tear my bright hair, and scratch my praised 

cheeks ; 
Crack my clear voice with sobs, and break my heart. 

Pandaetjs. Be moderate, be moderate. 

Cues. "Why tell you me of moderation ? 
The grief is fine, full, perfect, that I taste, 
And violenteth in a sense as strong 
As that which causeth it : How can I moderate it ? 
If I could temporize with my affection, 
Or brew it to a weak and colder palate, 
The like allayment could I give my grief: 
My love admits no qualifying dross : 
No more my grief, in such a precious loss. 

TROILUS AND CRESSIDA, A. 4, S. 3. 



BRAVERY OF THE PLANTAGENETS. 

York. The army of the queen hath got the 

field: 
My uncles both are slain in rescuing me ; 
And all my followers to the eager foe 
Turn back, and fly, like ships before the wind, 
Or lambs pursu'd by hungry starved wolves. 
My sons, — God knows, what hath bechanced 

them: 
But this I know, — they have demean' d themselves 



WILLIAM SRAKESPEABE. 59 

Like men born to renown, by life, or death. 
Three times did Bicliard make a lane to me ; 
And thrice cried, — Courage, father ! fight it out ! 
And full as oft came Edward to my side, 
With purple faulchion, painted to the hilt 
In blood of those that had encounter' d him : 
And when the hardiest warriors did retire, 
Bichard cried, — Charge! and give no foot oj 

ground! 
And cried, — A crown, or else a glorious tomb ! 
A sceptre, or an earthly sepulchre ! 
With this, we charg'd again : but, out, alas ! 
We bodg'd again ; as I have seen a swan 
With bootless labour swim against the tide, 
And spend her strength with overmatching waves. 
\_A short alarum zvithin. 
Ah, hark ! the fatal followers do pursue ; 
And I am faint, and cannot fly their fury : 
And, were I strong, I would not shun their fury : 
The sands are number' d, that make up my life ; 
Here must I stay, and here my life must end. 
Enter Qtjeei* Margaret, Clifford, North- 
umberland, and Soldiers. 
Come, bloody Clifford, — rough Northumberland, 
I dare your quenchless fury more to rage ; 
I am your butt, and I abide your shot. 

K. HENRY VI., PART III., A. 1, S. 4. 



CESAR'S APPRECIATION OF HIM- 
SELF UNWORTHY OF HIMSELF. 

I coijld be well moved, if I were as you ; 

If I could pray to move, prayers would move me : 

But I am constant as the northern star, 

Of whose true-fix' d, and resting quality, 



60 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

There is no fellow in the firmament. 
The skies are painted with unnumber'd sparks, 
They are all fire, and every one doth shine ; 
But there's but one in all doth hold his place : 
So, in the world ; 'Tis furnish' d well with men, 
And men are flesh and blood, and apprehensive ; 
Yet, in the number, I do know but one, 
That unassailable holds on his rank, 
Unshak'd of motion : and, that I am he, 
Let me a little show it, even in this ; 
That I was constant, Cimber should be banish' d, 
And constant do remain to keep him so. 

JULIUS CiESAR, A. 3, S. 1. 



CALUMNY DESTRUCTIVE. 

You, my lords, 
Look on her, mark her well ; be but about 
To say, she is a goodly lady, and 
The justice of your hearts will thereto add, 
'Tis pity, she's not honest, honourable : 
Praise her but for this, her without-door form, 
(Which, on my faith, deserves high speech,) and 

straight 
The shrug, the hum, or ha ; these petty brands, 
That calumny doth use: — 0, I am out, 
That mercy does ; for calumny will sear 
Virtue itself: — these shrugs, these hums, and 

ha's, 
"When you have said, she's goodly, come between, 
Ere you can say she's honest : But be it known, 
Erom him that has most cause to grieve it 

should be, 
She's an adultress. 

winter's tale, a. 2, s. 1. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 6 1 

CARNAL FRIENDSHIP FLEETING. 

I scorn thy meat; 'twould choke me, for I 

should 
Ne'er flatter thee. — O you gods ! what a number 
Of men eat Timon, and he sees them not ! 
It grieves me to see so many dip their meat 
In one man's blood ; and all the madness is, 
He cheers them up too. 

I wonder men dare trust themselves with men : 
Methinks, they should invite them without 

knives; 
Good for their meat, and safer for their lives. 
There's much example for't ; the fellow, that 
Sits next him now, parts bread with him, and 

pledges 
The breath of him in a divided draught, 
Is the readiest man to kill him: it has been 

prov'd. 
If I 
Were a huge man, I should fear to drink at 

meals ; 
Lest they should spy my windpipe's dangerous 

notes : 
Great men should drink with harness on their 

throats. 

TIMON OF ATHENS, A. 1, S. 2. 



CATCHING A SHREW IN HER 

OWN NET. 

Petrtjchio. What is this ? mutton ? 
'Tis burnt ; and so is all the meat : 
What dogs are these? — Where is the rascal 
cook? 



62 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

How durst you, villains, bring it from the 

dresser, 
And serve it thus to me that love it not ? 
There, take it to you, trenchers, cups, and all : 

[Throws the meat about the stage, 
Tou heedless joltheads, and unmanner'd slaves ! 
What, do you grumble? I'll be with you 
straight. 
Katharina. I pray you, husband, be not so 
disquiet ; 
The meat was well, if you were so contented. 
Pet. I tell thee, Kate, 'twas burnt and dried 
away ; 
And I expressly am forbid to touch it, 
For it engenders choler, planteth anger ; 
And better 'twere that both of us did fast, — 
Since, of ourselves, ourselves are cholerick, — 
Than feed it with such over-roasted flesh. 
Be patient ; to-morrow it shall be mended, 
And, for this night, we'll fast for company : — 
Come, I will bring thee to thy bridal chamber. 
[Exeunt Petruchio, Katharina, and 
Curtis. 
Nathaniel. Peter, didst ever see the like ? 
Peter. He kills her in her own humour. 

Re-enter Curtis. 

G-rumio. Where is he ? 

Curtis. In her chamber, 
Making a sermon of continency to her ; 
And rails, and swears, and rates ; that she, poor 

soul, 
Knows not which way to stand, to look, to speak; 
And sits as one new-risen from a dream. 
Away, away ! for he is coming hither. [Exeunt. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 63 

Re-enter Petbtjchio. 
Pet. Thus have I politickly begun my reign, 
And 'tis my hope to end successfully : 
My falcon now is sharp, and passing empty : 
And, till she stoop, she must not be full-gorg'd, 
For then she never looks upon her lure. 
Another way I have to man my haggard, 
To make her come, and know her keeper's call, 
That is, to watch her, as we watch these kites, 
That bate, and beat, and will not be obedient. 
She eat no meat to-day, nor none shall eat ; 
Last night she slept not, nor to-night she shall 

not: 
As with the meat, some undeserv'd fault 
I'll find about the making of the bed ; 
And here I'll fling the pillow, there the bolster, 
This way the coverlet, another way the sheets: — 
Ay, and amid this hurly, I intend, 
That all is done in reverend care of her ; 
And, in conclusion, she shall watch all night : 
And, if she chance to nod, I'll rail and brawl, 
And with the clamour keep her still awake. 
This is a way to kill a wife with kindness ; 
And thus I'll curb her mad and headstrong 

humour: 
He that knows better how to tame a shrew, 
Now let him speak ; 'tis charity to show. 

TAMING OF THE SHREW, A. 4, S. 1. 



CEREMONY. 

"What a coil's here ! 
I doubt whether their legs be worth the sums 
That are given for 'em. Friendship's full of 
dregs: 



64 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Methinks, false hearts should never have sound 

legs. 
Thus honest fools lay out their wealth on court' sies. 

TIMON OF ATHENS, A. 1, S. 2. 



CHALLENGE IN THE HEROIC AGE. 

iENEAS. Trumpet, blow loud, 

Send thy brass voice through all these lazy 

tents ; — 
And every Greek of mettle, let him know, 
"What Troy means fairly, shall be spoke aloud. 
We have, Great Agamemnon, here in Troy 
A prince call'd Hector, {Priam is his father,) 
Who in this dull and long-continued truce 
Is rusty grown ; he bade me take a trumpet, 
And to this purpose speak: — Kings, princes, 

lords ! 
If there be one, among the fair'st of Greece, 
That holds his honour higher than his ease ; 
That seeks his praise more than he fears his peril; 
That knows his valour, and knows not his fear ; 
That loves his mistress more than in confession, 
(With truant vows to her own lips he loves,) 
And dare avow her beauty and her worth, 
In other arms than hers — to him this challenge. 
Hector, in view of Trojans and of Greeks, 
Shall make it good, or do his best to do it, 
He hath a lady, wiser, fairer, truer, 
Than ever Greek did compass in his arms ; 
And will to-morrow with his trumpet call, 
Mid- way between your tents and walls of Troy, 
To rouse a Grecian that is true in love : 
If any come, Hector shall honour him ; 
If none, he'll say in Troy, when he retires, 



I 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 65 

The Grecian dames are sun-burn' d, and not 

worth 
The splinter of a lance. Even so much. 

Agamemkon. This shall be told our lovers, 

lord uEneas; 
If none of them have soul in such a kind, 
We left them all at home : But we are soldiers ; 
And may that soldier a mere recreant prove, 
That means not, hath not, or is not in love ! 
If then one is, or hath, or means to be, 
That one meets Hector; if none else, I am he. 
Nestor. Tell him of Nestor, one that was a 

man 
"When Hector's grandsire suck'd: he is old now ; 
But, if there be not in our Grecian host 
One noble man, that hath one spark of fire 
To answer for his love, Tell him from me, — 
I'll hide my silver beard in a gold beaver, 
And in my vantbrace put this wither' d brawn ; 
And meeting him, will tell him, that my lady 
Was fairer than his grandame, and as chaste 
As may be in the world ; his youth in flood, 
I'll prove this truth with my three drops of 

blood. 
JEne. Now heavens forbid such scarcity of 

youth ! 
Ulysses. Amen. 
Agah. Fair lord JEneas, let me touch your 

hand ; 
To our pavilion shall I lead you, sir. 
Achilles shall have word of this intent ; 
So shall each lord of Greece, from tent to tent : 
Yourself shall feast with us before you go, 
And find the welcome of a noble foe. 

TROILUS AND CRESSIDA, A. 1, S. 3. 



66 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

CHAOTIC EFFECTS OF JEALOUSY. 

These are the forgeries of jealousy : 

And never, since the middle summer's spring, 

Met we on hill, in dale, forest, or mead, 

By paved fountain, or by rushy brook, 

Or on the beached margent of the sea, 

To dance our ringlets to the whistling wind, 

But with thy brawls thou hast disturb 5 d our 

sport. 
Therefore the winds, piping to us in vain, 
As in revenge, have suck'd up from the sea 
Contagious fogs ; which falling in the land, 
Have every pelting river made so proud, 
That they have overborne their continents : 
The ox hath therefore stretch' d his yoke in vain, 
The ploughman lost his sweat; and the green 

corn 
Hath rotted, ere his youth attain' d a beard : 
The fold stands empty in the drowned field, 
And crows are fatted with the murrain flock ; 
The nine men's morris is fill'd up with mud; 
And the quaint mazes in the wanton green, 
For lack of tread, are undistinguishable ; 
The human mortals want their winter here ; 
No night is now with hymn or carol blest : — 
Therefore the moon, the governess of floods, 
Pale in her anger, washes all the air, 
That rheumatick diseases do abound : 
And through this distemperature, we see 
The seasons alter : hoary-headed frosts 
Fall in the fresh lap of the crimson rose ; 
And on old Hyems" thin and icy crown, 
An odorous chaplet of sweet summer buds 
Is, as in mockery, set : The spring, the summer, 
The childing autumn, angry winter, change 
Their wonted liveries ; and the mazed world, 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 67 

By their increase, now knows not which is which: 
And this same progeny of evils comes 
From our debate, from our dissension ; 
We are their parents and original. 

MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM, A. 2, S. 2. 



CHARACTER 

Agamemnon. What Trojan is that same that 

looks so heavy ? 
Ultsses. The youngest son of Priam, a true 

knight ; 
Not yet mature, yet matchless : firm of word ; 
Speaking in deeds, and deedless in his tongue ; 
Not soon provok'd, nor, being provok'd, soon 

calm'd : 
His heart and hand both open, and both free ; 
For what he has, he gives ; what thinks, he 

shows ; 
Tet gives he not till judgment guide his bounty, 
Nor dignifies an impure thought with breath : 
Manly as Hector, but more dangerous ; 
For Hector, in his blaze of wrath, subscribes 
To tender objects ; but he, in heat of action, 
Is more vindicative than jealous love : 
They call him Troilus ; and on him erect 
A second hope, as fairly built as Hector. 
Thus says JEneas; one that knows the youth 
Even to his inches, and, with private soul, 
Did in great Ilion thus translate him to me. 

TROILUS AND CRESSIDA, A. 4, S. 5. 



CHARACTER. 

BEWAEE ; 

Those wounds heal ill, that men do give them- 
selves : 



68 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Omission to do what is necessary- 
Seals a commission to a blank of danger ; 
And danger, like an ague, subtly taints 
Even then when we sit idly in the sun. 

TROILUS AND CRESSIDA, A. 3, S. 3. 



CHARACTER 

Theee can be no kernel in this light nut; 
the soul of this man is his clothes : trust him 
not in matter of heavy consequence; I have 
kept of them tame, and know their natures. 

all's well that ends well, a. 2. s. 5. 



CHARACTER 

Smooth runs the water, where the brook is deep; 
And in his simple show he harbours treason. 
The fox barks not, when he would steal the lamb. 

K. HENRY VI., PART II., A. 3, S. 1. 



CHARACTER. 

Tor do not know him, my lord, as we do : 
certain it is, that he will steal himself into a 
man's favour, and, for a week, escape a great 
deal of discoveries ; but when you find him out, 
you have him ever after. 

ALLS WELL THAT ENDS WELL, A. 3, S. 6. 



CHARACTER 

This was a fool ; an empty purse, 
There was no money in't : not Hercules 
Could have knock' d out his brains, for he had 
none. 

CYMBELINE, A. 4, S. 2. 



WILLIAM SHAKUSPUABK 69 

CHARACTER OF A CONCEITED 
HERO. 

He stalks up and down like a peacock, a 
stride, and a stand : ruminates, like an hostess, 
that hath no arithmetick but her brain to set 
down her reckoning : bites his lip with a politick 
regard, as who should say — there were wit in 
this head, an 'twould out ; and so there is ; but 
it lies as coldly in him as fire in a flint, which 
will not show without knocking. The man's 
undone for ever; for if Hector break not his 
neck i'the combat, he'll break it himself in vain- 
glory. He knows not me : I said, Good-morrow, 
Ajax; and he replies, Thanks, Agamemnon. 
"What think you of this man, that takes me for 
the general? He is grown a very land fish, 
languageless, a monster. A plague of opinion ! 
a man may wear it on both sides, like a leather 
jerkin. He'll answer nobody ; he professes not 
answering ; speaking is for beggars : he wears 
his tongue in his arms. 

TKOILUS AND CRESSPDA, A. 3, S. 3. 



CHASTITY. 

She'll not be hit 
With Cupid's arrow, she hath Dian's wit ; 
And, in strong proof of chastity well arm'd, 
From love's weak childish bow she lives un- 
harmed. 
She will not stay the sige of loving terms, 
Nor bide the encounter of assailing eyes, 
Nor ope her lap to saint-seducing gold : 



70 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

0, she is rich in beauty ; only poor, 

That, when she dies, with beauty dies her store. 

ROMEO AND JULIET, A. 1, S. 1. 



CHRISTIAN CONTENTMENT. 

Sir, I am a true labourer ; I earn that I eat, 
get that I wear; owe no man hate, envy no 
man's happiness ; glad of other men's good, con- 
tent with my harm : and the greatest of my pride 
is, to see my ewes graze, and my lambs suck. 

AS YOU LIKE IT, A. 3, S. 2. 



CIVIL WAR A MONSTER THAT 
BREEDS EVERY CRIME. 

Hastings. My lord, our army is dispers'd 
already : 
Like youthful steers unyok'd, they take their 

courses 
East, west, north, south ; or, like a school broke 

up, 
Each hurries toward his home, and sporting- 
place. 
"Westmoreland. Good tidings, my lord Has- 
tings ; for the which 
I do arrest thee, traitor, of high treason : 
And you, lord archbishop, — and you, lord Mow- 

Iray, 
Of capital treason I attach you both. 
Mowbray. Is this proceeding just and hon- 
ourable ? 
West. Is your assembly so ? 
Archbishop. Will you thus break your faith ? 



WILLIAM SLCAKESPUABU. 7 1 

Prince John. I pawn'd thee none : 

I promis'd you redress of these same grievances, 
Whereof you did complain; which, by mine 

honour, 
I will perform with a most christian care. 
But, for you, rebels, — look to taste the due 
Meet for rebellion, and such acts as yours. 
Most shallowly did you these arms commence, 
Fondly brought here, and foolishly sent hence. — 
Strike up our drums, pursue the scatter' d stray; 
Heaven, and not we, hath safely fought to-day. — 
Some guard these traitors to the block of death; 
Treason's true bed, and yielder up of breath. 

K. HENRY IV., PAST II., A. 4, S. 2. 



CO-EQUAL POWERS OFT BECOME 
ANTAGONISTIC. 

Menanius. If, by the tribunes' leave, and 
yours, good people, 
I may be heard, I'd crave a word or two ; 
The which shall turn you to no further harm, 
Than so much loss of time. 

SiciimTS. Speak briefly then ; 

For we are peremptory, to despatch 
This viperous traitor : to eject him hence, 
Were but one danger ; and, to keep him here, 
Our certain death ; therefore it is decreed, 
He dies to-night. 

Men. Now the good gods forbid, 

That our renowned Borne, whose gratitude 
Towards her deserved children is enroll' d 
In Jove's own book, like an unnatural dam 
Should now eat up her own ! 

Sic. He's a disease, that must be cut away. 



72 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Men. 0, he's a limb, that has but a disease ; 
Mortal, to cut it off; to cure it, easy. 
"What has he done to Pome, that's worthy death? 
Killing our enemies ? The blood he hath lost, 
(Which, I dare vouch, is more than that he hath, 
By many an ounce,) he dropp'd it for his country: 
And, what is left, to lose it by his country, 
Were to us all, that do't, and suffer it, 
A brand to the end o'the world. 

CORIOLANUS, A. 3, S. 1. 



COMBAT BETWEEN CONSCIENCE 
AND NECESSITY. 

2nd Murdeeee. Shall we stab him as he 
sleeps ? 

1st Muedeeer. No ; he'll say, 'twas done 
cowardly, when he wakes. 

2 Mued. When he wakes ! why, fool, he shall 
never wake until the great judgment day. 

1 Mued. Why, then he'll say, we stabb'd 
him sleeping. 

2 Mued. The urging of that word, judgment, 
hath bred a kind of remorse in me. 

1 Mued. What ? art thou afraid ? 

2 Mued. Not to kill him, having a warrant 
for it ; but to be damn'd for killing him, from 
the which no warrant can defend me. 

1 Mued. I thought, thou had' st been resolute. 

2 Mued. So I am, to let him live. 

1 Mued. I'll back to the duke of Gloster, 
and tell him so. 

2 Mued. Nay, I pr'ythee, stay a little : I 
hope, this holy humour of mine will change ; it 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 73 

was wont to hold me but while one would tell 
twenty. 

1 Mtjrd. How dost thou feel thyself now ? 

2 Mtjrd. 'Faith, some certain dregs of con- 
science are yet within me. 

1 Mtjrd. Remember our reward, when the 
deed's done. 

2 Murd. Come, he dies ; I had forgot the 
reward. 

1 Mtjrd. Where's thy conscience now ? 

2 Mtjrd. In the duke of Gloster's purse. 

1 Mtjrd. So, when he opens his purse to 
give us our reward, thy conscience flies out. 

2 Murd. 'Tis no matter ; let it go ; there's 
few, or none, will entertain it. 

1 Mtjrd. "What, if it come to thee again ? 

2 Mtjrd. I'll not meddle with it, it is a dan- 
gerous thing, it makes a man a coward ; a man 
cannot steal, but it accuseth him ; a man cannot 
swear, but it checks him ; a man cannot lie with 
his neighbour's wife, but it detects him : 'Tis 
a blushing shame-faced spirit, that mutinies in 
a man's bosom ; it fills one full of obstacles : it 
made me once restore a purse of gold, that by 
chance I found ; it beggars any man that keeps 
it : it is turned out of all towns and cities for a 
dangerous thing ; and every man, that means to 
live well, endeavours to trust to himself, and live 
without it. 

1 Mtjrd. 'Zounds, it is even now at my elbow, 
persuading me not to kill the duke. 

2 Mtjrd. Take the devil in thy mind, and 
believe him not : he would insinuate with thee, 
but to make thee sigh. 

K. EICHARD III., A. 1, S. 4. 



74 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

COMMON FATE OF MISFORTUNE. 

Nay, sir, but hear me on : 
All those which were his fellows but of late, 
(Some better than his value,) on the moment 
Follow his strides, his lobbies fill with tendance, 
Rain sacrificial whisperings in his ear, 
Make sacred even his stirrup, and through him 
Drink the free air. 

When Fortune, in her shift and change of mood, 
Spurns down her late belov'd, all his dependants, 
"Which labour' d after him to the mountain's top, 
Even on their knees and hands, let him slip down, 
Not one accompanying his declining foot. 

TIMON OF ATHENS, A. 1, S. 1. 



CONCEIT. 

Things small as nothing, for request's sake only, 
He makes important: Possess' d he is with 

greatness ; 
And speaks not to himself, but with a pride 
That quarrels at self-breath : imagin'd worth 
Holds in his blood such swoln and hot discourse, 
That, 'twixt his mental and his active parts, 
Kingdom' d Achilles in commotion rages, 
And batters down himself: What should I say? 
He is so plaguy proud, that the death-tokens of it 
Cry — No recovery. 

TROILUS AND CRESSIDA, A. 2, S. 3. 



CONCEIT. 

Conceit in weakest bodies strongest works. 



HAMLET, A. 3, S. 4. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 7 s 

CONDITION OF ENGLAND IN THE 

MIDDLE AGES. 

O England ! — model to thy inward greatness, 

Like little body with a mighty heart, — 

What might' st thou do, that honour would thee 

do, 
Were all thy children kind and natural ! 

K, HENRY V., A. 2, CflOniS. 



CONDITIONS INFLUENCE IDEAS. 

P. Henry. Trust me, I am exceeding weary. 

Poins. Is it come to that ? I had thought, 
weariness durst not have attached one of so 
high blood. 

P. Hen. 'Faith, it does me ; though it dis- 
colours the complexion of my greatness to ac- 
knowledge it. l)oth it not show vilely in me, 
to desire small beer ? 

Poins. Why, a prince should not be so 
loosely studied, as to remember so weak a 
composition. 

P. Hen. Belike then, my appetite was not 
princely got; for, by my troth, I do now re- 
member the poor creature, small beer. But, 
indeed, these humble considerations make me 
out of love with my greatness. 

K. HENRY IT., PART II., A. 2, S. 2. 



CONFESSION OF THE BRAGGART. 

Yet am I thankful : if my heart were great, 
'Twould burst at this : Captain, I'll be no more; 
But I will eat and drink, and sleep as soft 



76 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

As captain shall, simply the thing I am 

Shall make me live. Who knows himself a 

braggart 
Let him fear this ; for it will come to pass, 
That every braggart shall be found an ass. 
Rust, sword ! cool, blushes ! and, Parolles, live 
Safest in shame ! being fool'd, by foolery thrive ! 
There's place, and means, for every man alive. 

all's well that ends well, a. 4, S.3. 



CONFIDENCE. 

Be bold in us : we'll follow where thou lead'st,- 
Like stinging bees in hottest summer's day, 
Led by their master to the flower' d fields. 

TITUS ANDRONICUS, A. 5, S. 1. 



CONSCIENCE HARDENS WITH THE 

PROGRESS OF EVIL. 

O, full of scorpions is my mind, dear wife ! 
Thou know'st, that Banquo, and his Fleance, lives. 
There's comfort yet ; they are assailable ; 
Then be thou jocund : Ere the bat hath flown 
His cloister' d flight; ere, to black Hecate' ] s 

summons, 
The shard-borne beetle, with his drowsy hums, 
Hath rung night's yawning peal, there shall be 

done 
A deed of dreadful note. 
Be innocent of the knowledge, dearest chuck, 
Till thou applaud the deed. Come, seeling night, 
Scarf up the tender eye of pitiful day ; 
And, with thy bloody and invisible hand, 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 77 j 

Cancel, and tear to pieces, that great bond 
Which keeps me pale! — Light thickens; and 

the crow 
Makes wing to the rooky wood : 
Good things of day begin to droop and drowse ; 
"Whiles night's black agents to their prey do rouse. 
Thou marvell'st at my words: but hold thee still; 
Things, bad begun, make strong themselves by ill: 
So, pr'ythee, go with me. 

MACBETH, A. 3, S. 2. 



CONSCIENCE LAID OPEN. 

I am myself indifferent honest; but yet I 
could accuse me of such things, that it were 
better, my mother had not borne me : I am very 
proud, revengeful, ambitious ; with more offences 
at my beck, than I have thoughts to put them 
in, imagination to give them shape, or time to 
act them in : What should such fellows as I do, 
crawling between earth and heaven ! We are 
arrant knaves, all ; believe none of us. 

HAMLET, A. 3, S. 1. 



CONSCIENCE. 

To my sick soul, as sin's true nature is, 
Each toy seems prologue to some great amiss : 
So full of artless jealousy is guilt, 
It spills itself, in fearing to be spilt. 

HAMLET, A. 4, S. 5. 

CONSCIENCE WHEN SEABED. 

O, 'tis too true ! how smart 
A lash that speech doth give my conscience ! 
The harlot's cheek, beautied with plast'ring art, 



78 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Is not more ugly to the thing that helps it, 
Than is my deed to my most painted word : 
O heavy burden ! 

HAMLET, A. 3, S. 1. 



CONSCIENCE THE PROOF OF THE 
IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 

O, I haye pass'd a miserable night, 
So full of fearful dreams, of ugly sights, 
That, as I am a christian faithful man, 
I would not spend another such a night, 
Though 'twere to buy a world of.happy days ; 
So full of dismal terror was the time. 
Methought, that I had broken from the Tower, 
And was embark' d to cross to Burgundy; 
And, in my company, my brother Gloster : 
Who from my cabin tempted me to walk 
Upon the hatches; thence we look'd toward 

England, 
And cited up a thousand heavy times, 
During the wars of York and Lancaster, 
That had befall'n us. As we pac'd along 
Upon the giddy footing of the hatches, 
Methought, that Gloster stumbled; and, in 

falling, 
Struck me, that thought to stay him, overboard, 
Into the tumbling billows of the main. 
O Lord ! methought, what pain it was to drown ! 
What dreadful noise of water in mine ears ! 
What sights of ugly death within mine eyes ! 
Methought, I saw a thousand fearful wrecks ; 
A thousand men, that fishes gnaw'd upon ; 
Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl, 
Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels, 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 79 

All scatter'd in the bottom of the sea. 

Some lay in dead men's skulls; and, in those 

holes 
"Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept 
(As 'twere in scorn of eyes,) reflecting gems, 
That woo'd the slimy bottom of the deep, 
And mock'd the dead bones that lay scatter'd by. 

Often did I strive 
To yield the ghost : but still the envious flood 
Kept in my soul, and would not let it forth 
To seek the empty, vast, and wand'ring air ; 
But smother' d it within my panting bulk, 
Which almost burst to belch it in the sea. 
O, then began the tempest to my soul ! 
I pass'd, methought, the melancholy flood, 
With that grim ferryman which poets write of, 
Unto the kingdom of perpetual night. 
The first that there did greet my stranger soul, 
Was my great father-in-law, renown' d Warwick; 
Who cry'd aloud, — What scourge for perjury 
Can this dark monarchy afford false Clarence ? 
And so he vanish' d: Then came wand'ring by 
A shadow like an angel, with bright hair 
Dabbled in blood ; and he shriek' d out aloud, — 
Clarence is come, — false, fleeting, perjur'd 

Clarence, — 
That stabVd me in the field by Tewksbury ; — 
Sieze on him, furies, take him to your torments ! 
With that, methought, a legion of foul fiends 
Environ' d me, and howled in mine ears 
Such hideous cries, that, with the very noise, 
I trembling wak'd, and, for a season after, 
Could not believe but that I was in hell ; 
Such terrible impression made my dream. 
O, Brakenbury, I have done these things, — 
That now give evidence against my soul, — 



8o THE PHILOSOPHY OF 



Eor Edward's sake; and, see, how lie requites 
me! — 

G-od ! if my deep prayers cannot appease thee, 
But thou wilt be aveng'd on my misdeeds, 

Yet execute thy wrath on me alone : 
O, spare my guiltless wife, and my poor 
children ! — 

1 pray thee, gentle keeper, stay by me ; 
My soul is heavy, and I fain would sleep. 

K. KICHARD III., A. 1, S. 4. 



CONSCIOUSNESS OF CONSCIENCE. 

This push 
Will cheer me ever, or disseat me now. 
I have liv'd long enough : my way of life 
Is fall'n into the sear, the yellow leaf: 
And that which should accompany old age, 
As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends, 
I must not look to have ; but, in their stead, 
Curses not loud, but deep, mouth-honour, breath, 
"Which the poor heart would fain deny, but dare 
not. 

MACBETH, A. 4, S. 3. 



CONSIDERATION AND POSITION 
SHOULD GO HAND IN HAND. 

Yes, like enough, high-battled Ocesar will 
Unstate his happiness, and be stag'd to the show, 
Against a sworder. — I see, men's judgments are 
A parcel of their fortunes ; and things outward 
Do draw the inward quality after them, 
To suffer all alike. That he should dream, 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 8 1 

Knowing all measures, the full Ccesar will 
Answer his emptiness ! — Ccesar, thou hast subdu'd 
His judgment too. 

ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA, A. 3, S. 11. 



CONSTANCY. 

Cleopatka. Not know me yet ? 

Antony. Cold-hearted toward me ? 

Cleo. Ah, dear, if I be so, 

From my cold heart let heaven engender hail, 
And poison it in the source ; and the first stone 
Drop in my neck : as it determines, so 
Dissolve my life ! The next Ccesarion smite ! 
Till, by degrees, the memory of my womb, 
Together with my brave Egyptians ail, 
By the discandying of this pelleted storm, 
Lie graveless ; till the flies and gnats of Nile 
Have buried them for prey. 

ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA, A. 3, S. 11. 



CONTEMN NOT YOUR ENEMY. 

Ik cases of defence, 'tis best to weigh 
The enemy more mighty than he seems, 
So the proportions of defence are fill'd; 
"Which, of a weak and niggardly projection, 
Doth, like a miser, spoil his coat, with scanting 
A little cloth. 

K. HENRY V., A. 2, S. 4. 



CONTRITION, FORGIVENESS, AND 

EXPIATION. 

Most welcome, bondage ! for thou art a way, 
I think, to liberty : Yet am I better 
o 



82 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Than one that's sick o' the gout : since he had 

rather 
Groan so in perpetuity, than be cur'd 
By the sure physician, death ; who is the key 
To unbar these locks. My conscience ! thou art 

fetter'd 
More than my shanks, and wrists: Tou good 

gods, give me 
The penitent instrument, to pick that bolt, 
Then, free for ever ! Is't enough, I am sorry ? 
So children temporal fathers do appease ; 
G-ods are more full of mercy. Must I repent ? 
I cannot do it better than in gyves, 
Desir'd, more than constrain' d: to satisfy, 
If of my freedom 'tis the main part, take 
No stricter render of me, than my all. 
I know you are more clement than vile men, 
"Who of their broken debtors take a third, 
A sixth, a tenth, letting them thrive again 
On their abatement : that's not my desire : 
For Imogen's dear life, take mine ; and though 
'Tis not so dear, yet 'tis a life ; you coin'd it : 
'Tween man and man, they weigh not every stamp ; 
Though light, take pieces for the figure's sake: 
Tou rather mine, being yours: And so, great 

powers, 
If you will take this audit, take this life, 
And cancel these cold bonds. Imogen ! 
I'll speak to thee in silence. 

CTMBELINE, A. 5, S. 4. 



COURAGE OF DESPERATION. 

I will to-morrow, 
(Betimes I will,) unto the weird sisters : 
More shall they speak ; for now I am bent to know, 



WILLIAH SSAEESPEAEE. 8 3 

By the worst means, the worst : for mine own 

good, 
All causes shall give way ; I am in blood 
Stept in so far, that, should I wade no more, 
Returning were as tedious as go o'er : 
Strange things I have in head, that will to hand ; 
Which must be acted, ere they may be scann'd. 
Come, we'll to sleep : My strange and self-abuse 
Is the initiate fear, that wants hard use : — 
"We are yet but young in deed. 

MACBETH, A. 3, S. 4. 



CROOKED BACK AND CROOKED 

MIND. 

Glostee. Thy son I kill'd for his presump- 
tion. 
K. He>- rt. Hadst thou been kill' d, when first 
thou didst presume, 
Thou hadst not liv'd to kill a son of mine. 
And thus I prophecy, — that many a thousand, 
"Which now mistrust no parcel of my fear ; 
And many an old man's sigh, and many a widow's, 
And many an orphan's water-standing eye, — 
Men for their sons, wives for their husbands' fate, 
And orphans for their parents' timeless death, — 
Shall rue the hour that ever thou wast born. 
The owl shriek' d at thy birth, an evil sign ; 
The night-crow cried, aboding luckless time ; 
Dogs howl'd, and hideous tempests shook down 

trees j 
The raven rook'd her on the chimney's top, 
And chattering pies in dismal discords sung. 
Thy mother felt more than a mother's pain, 
And yet brought forth less than a mother's hope ; 
To wit, — an indigest deformed lump, 



84 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Not like the fruit of such a goodly tree. 

Teeth hadst thou in thy head, when thou wast 

born, 
To signify, thou cam'st to bite the world : 
And, if the rest be true which I have heard, 

Thou cam'st 

GrLO. I'll hear no more; — Die, prophet, in 

thy speech : [Stabs him. 

For this, amongst the rest, was I ordain' d. 
K. Hen. Ay, and for much more slaughter 

after this. 

God ! forgive my sins, and pardon thee ! 

[Dies. 
GrLO. What, will the aspiring blood of Lan- 
caster 
Sink in the ground ? I thought it would have 

mounted. 
See, how my sword weeps for the poor king's death! 

0, may such purple tears be alway shed 

From those that wish the downfal of our house ! — 
If any spark of life be yet remaining, 
Down, down to hell; and say — I sent thee 
thither, [Stabs him again. 

1, that have neither pity, love, nor fear. — 
Indeed, 'tis true, that Henry told me of ; 
For I have often heard my mother say, 

1 came into the world with my legs forward : 
Had I not reason, think ye, to make haste, 
And seek their ruin that usurp' d our right ? 
The midwife wonder' d: and the women cried, 
O, Jesus bless us, he is born with teeth ! 

And so I was ; which plainly signified — 
That I should snarl, and bite, and play the dog. 
Then, since the heavens have shap'd my body so, 
Let hell make crook' d my mind to answer it. 
I have no brother, I am like no brother : 



WILLI All SHAKESPEARE. 8 5 

And this word — love, which greybeards call 

divine, 
Be resident in men like one another, 
And not in me ; I am myself alone. 
Clarence, beware; thou keep'st me from the light; 
But I will sort a pitchy day for thee : 
For I will buz abroad such prophecies, 
That Edward shall be fearful of his life ; 
And, then, to purge his fear, I'll be thy death. 
King Henry, and the prince his son, are gone : 
Clarence, thy turn is next, and then the rest 
Counting myself but bad, till I be best. — 
I'll throw thy body in another room, 
And triumph, Henry, in thy day of doom. 

K. HENKY VI., PART III., A. 5, S. 6. 



CUNNING. 

Whef the fox hath once got in his nose, 
He'll soon find means to make the body follow. 

K. HENRY VI., PART III., A. 4, S. 7. 



CUNNING UNDERMINING GENIUS. 

All places yield to him ere he sits down: 

And the nobility of Borne are his : 

The senators, and patricians, love him too : 

The tribunes are no soldiers ; and their people 

"Will be as rash in the repeal, as hasty 

To expel him thence. I think, he'll be to Borne, 

As is the osprey to the fish, who takes it 

By sovereignty of nature. First he was 

A noble servant to them ; but he could not 

Carry his honours even : whether 'twas pride, 

Which out of daily fortune ever taints 



$6 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

The happy man; whether defect of judgment, 
To fail in the disposing of those chances 
"Which he was lord of ; or whether nature, 
Not to be other than one thing, not moving 
Prom the casque to the cushion, but command- 
ing peace 
Even with the same austerity and garb 
As he controlTd the war ; but, one of these, 
(As he hath spices of them all, not all, 
For I dare so far free him,) made him fear'd, 
So hated, and so banish' d : But he has a merit, 
To choke it in the utterance. So our virtues 
Lie in the interpretation of the time : 
And power, unto itself most commendable, 
Hath not a tomb so evident as a chair 
To extol what it hath done. 
One fire drives out one fire ; one nail, one nail ; 
Eights by rights fouler, strengths by strengths 

do fail. 
Come, let's away. "When, Caius, Borne is thine, 
Thou art poor'st of all; then shortly art thou 
mine. 

CORIOLANUS, A. 4, S. 7. 



CUKSE OF UNLAWFUL AMBITION. 

GrO, after, after, cousin Buckingham. 

The mayor towards Guild-hall hies him in all 

post : — 
There, at your meetest vantage of the time, 
Infer the bastardy of Edward's children : 
Tell them, how Edward put to death a citizen, 
Only for saying — he would make his son 
Heir to the crown ; meaning, indeed, his house, 
Which, by the sign thereof, was termed so. 
Moreover, urge his hateful luxury, 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. $ 7 

And bestial appetite in change of lust ; 

Which stretch' d unto their servants, daughters, 

wives, 
Even where his raging eye, or savage heart, 
Without control, fisted to make his prey. 
Nay, for a need, thus far come near my person : — 
Tell them, when that my mother went with 

child 
Of that insatiate Edward, noble York, 
My princely father, then had wars in France y 
And, by just computation of the time, 
Found, that the issue was not his begot ; 
Which well appeared in his lineaments, 
Being nothing like the noble duke my father : 
Yet touch this sparingly, as 'twere far off ; 
Because, my lord, you know, my mother lives. 
If you thrive well, bring them to Baynard's 

castle ; 
Where you shall find me well accompanied, 
With reverend fathers, and well-learned bishops. 

K. RICHAitD III., A. 3, S. 5. 



DANGER OF COQUETTING WITH 
EVIL. 

I no not like her. She doth think, she has 
Strange lingering poisons : I do know her spirit, 
And will not trust one of her malice with 
A drug of such damn'd nature : Those, she has, 
Will stupefy and dull the sense awhile : 
Which first, perchance, she'll prove on cats, and 

dogs ; 
Then afterward up higher ; but there is 
No danger in what show of death it makes, 
More than the locking up the spirits a time, 



88 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

To be more fresh, reviving. She is fool'd 
With a most false effect ; and I the truer, 
So to be false with her. 

CYMBELINE, A. 1, S. 6. 



DAWN OF LIGHT. 

Look, the morn, in russet mantle clad, 
Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastern hill. 

HAMLET, A. 1, S. 1. 



DEARLY IS SUCCESS BOUGHT BY 
OVER MENTAL ANXIETY. 

And wherefore should these good news make me 

sick? 
Will fortune never come with both hands full, 
But write her fair words still in foulest letters ? 
She either gives a stomach, and no food, — 
Such are the poor, in health ; or else a feast, 
And takes away the stomach, — such are the rich, 
That have abundance, and enjoy it not. 
I should rejoice now at this happy news ; 
And now my sight fails, and my brain is giddy : — 
me ! come near me, now I am much ill. 

K. HENRY IV., PART II., A. 4, S. 4. 



DEATH. 

This counsellor 
Is now most still, most secret, and most grave, 
Who was in life a foolish prating knave. 

HAMLET, A. 3, S. 4. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 89 

DEATH NOT TERRIBLE WHEN 
WELL APPROACHED. 

Rosse. Tour son, my lord, has paid a soldier's 
debt: 
He only liv'd but till he was a man; 
The which no sooner had his prowess confirm' d 
In the unshrinking station where he fought, 
But like a man he died. 

Siwaed. Then he is dead ? 

Rosse. Ay, and brought off the field: your 
cause of sorrow 
Must not be measur'd by his worth, for then 
It hath no end. 

Siw. Had he his hurts before ? 

Rosse. Ay, on the front. 

Siw. Why, then, God's soldier be he ! 

Had I as many sons as I have hairs, 
I would not wish them to a fairer death : 
And so his knell is knoll' d. 

Malcolm. He's worth more sorrow, 

And that I'll spend for him. 

Siw. He's worth no more ; 

They say, he parted well, and paid Ins score : 
So, Grod be with him ! 

MACBETH, A. 5, S. 7. 



DEATH OF INNOCENCE AND 

BEAUTY. 

Salisbt:by. This is the prison : "What is he 
lies here : \_Seeing Aethue. 

death, made proud with pure and princely 
beauty ! 

The earth had not a hole to hide this deed. 

Murder, as hating what himself hath done, 



go THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Doth lay it open, to urge on revenge. 

Or, when he doom'd this beauty to a grave, 

Found it too precious-princely for a grave. 

Sir Richard, what think you ? Have you 

beheld, 
Or have you read, or heard? or could you 

think? 
Or do you almost think, although you see, 
That you do see? could thought, without this 

object, 
Form such another ? This is the very top, 
The height, the crest, or crest unto the crest, 
Of murder's arms : this is the bloodiest shame, 
The wildest savag'ry, the vilest stroke, 
That ever wall-ey'd wrath, or staring rage, 
Presented to the tears of soft remorse. 
All murders past do stand excus'd in this : 
And this so sole, and so unmatchable, 
Shall give a holiness, a purity, 
To the yet unbegotten sin of times ; 
And prove a deadly bloodshed but a jest, 
Exampled by this heinous spectacle. 

Bastakd. It is a damned and a bloody 

work ; 
The graceless action of a heavy hand, 
If that it be the work of any hand. 

Sal. If that it be the work of any hand ? — 
We had a kind of light, what would ensue : 
It is the shameful work of Hubert's hand ; 
The practice, and the purpose, of the king ; — 
From whose obedience I forbid my soul, 
Kneeling before this ruin of sweet life 
And breathing to his breathless excellence 
The incense of a vow, a holy vow ; 
Never to taste the pleasures of the world, 
Never to be infected with delight, 



WILLI AIL SHAKESPEARE. 91 

Nor conversant with ease and idleness, 
Till I have set a glory to this hand, 
By giving it the worship of revenge. 

KING JOHN, A. 4, S.3. 



DEATH OFTEN NEARER THE 
WEALTHY THAN THE HARDY. 

Still going ? — This is a lord ! noble misery ! 
To be i'the field, and ask, What news, of me ! 
To-day, how many would have given their honours 
To have sav'd their carcases ? took heel to do't, 
And yet died too ? I, in mine own woe charm' d, 
Could not find death, where I did hear him groan; 
Nor feel him, where he struck : Being an ugly 

monster, 
'Tis strange, he hides him in fresh cups, soft beds, 
Sweet words ; or hath more ministers than we 
That draw his knives i'the war. 

CYMBELINE, A. 5, S. 3. 



DEATH OF THE AMBITIOUS MAN. 

Warwick. Ah, who is nigh ? come to me, 

friend or foe, 
And tell me, who is victor, York, or Warwick ? 
Why ask I that ? my mangled body shows, 
My blood, my want of strength, my sick heart 

shows, 
That I must yield my body to the earth, 
And, by my fall, the conquest to my foe. 
Thus yields the cedar to the axe's edge, 
Whose arms gave shelter to the princely eagle, 
Under whose shade the ramping lion slept : 



92 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 



"Whose top-branch overpeer'd Jove's spreading 

tree, 
And kept low shrubs from winter's powerful 

wind. 
These eyes, that now are dimmed with death's 

black veil, 
Have been as piercing as the mid-day sun, 
To search the secret treasons of the world : 
The wrinkles in my brows, now fill' d with blood, 
"Were liken' d oft to kingly sepulchres ; 
Eor who liv'd king, but I could dig his grave ? 
And who durst smile, when Warwick bent his 

brow? 
Lo, now my glory smear' d in dust and blood ! 
My parks, my walks, my manors that I had, 
Even now forsake me ; and of all my lands, 
Is nothing left me but my body's length ! 
Why, what is pomp, rule, reign, but earth and 

dust ? 
And, live we how we can, yet die we must. 
Ah, Montague, 

If thou be there, sweet brother, take my hand, 
And with thy lips keep in my soul a while ! 
Thou lov'st me not ; for, brother, if thou didst, 
Thy tears would wash this cold congealed blood, 
That glews my lips, and will not let me speak. 
Come quickly, Montague, or I am dead. 

K. HENRY VI., PART III., A. 5, S. 2. 



DEATH'S CHANGES. 

Alas, poor YoricTc ! — I knew him, Horatio ; 
a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy : 
he hath borne me on his back a thousand times ; 
and now how abhorred in my imagination it is ! 



my gorge rises at it. Here hung those lips that 
I have kissed I know not how oft. "Where be 
your gibes now ? your gambols ? your songs ? 
your flashes of merriment, that were wont to 
set the table on a roar ? Not one now, to mock 
your own grinning? quite chap-fallen? Now 
get you to my lady's chamber, and tell her, let 
her paint an inch thick, to this favour she must 
come ; make her laugh at that. 

HAMLET, A. 5, S. 1. 



DEATH'S COLDNESS AND HOLINESS. 

Nay, sure, he's not in hell ; he's in Arthur's 
bosom, if ever man went to Arthur's bosom. 'A 
made a finer end, and went away, an it had been 
any christom child ; 'a parted even just between 
twelve and one, e'en at turning o'the tide : for 
after I saw him fumble with the sheets, and 
play with flowers, and smile upon his fingers' 
ends, I knew there was but one way ; for his 
nose was as sharp as a pen, and 'a babbled of 
green fields. How now, sir John ? quoth I : 
what, man ! be of good cheer. So 'a cried out — 
God, God, God ! three or four times : now I, to 
comfort him, bid him, 'a should not think of 
God; I hoped, there was no need to trouble him- 
self with any such thoughts yet : So, 'a bade me 
lay more clothes on his feet : I put my hand into 
the bed, and felt them, and they were as cold as 
any stone ; then I felt to his knees, and so up- 
ward, and upward, and all was as cold as any 
stone. 

K. HENRY V., A. 2, S. 3. 



94 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

INDICATIONS OF JEALOUSY. 

Is whispering nothing ? 
Is leaning cheek to cheek ? is meeting noses ? 
Kissing with inside lip ? stopping the career 
Of laughter with a sigh ? (a note infallible 
Of breaking honesty :) horsing foot on foot ? 
Skulking in corners ? wishing clocks more swift ? 
Hours, minutes ? noon, midnight ? and all eyes 

blind 
"With the pin and web, but theirs, theirs only, 
That would unseen be wicked ? is this nothing ? 
"Why, then the world, and all that's in't, is nothing; 
The covering sky is nothing ; Bohemia nothing ; 
My wife is nothing; nor nothing have these 

nothings, 
If this be nothing. 

winter's tale, a. 1, s. 2. 



DECISION. 

Comb, — I have learn' d, that fearful commenting 

Is leaden servitor to dull delay ; 

Delay leads impotent and snail-pac'd beggary : 

Then fiery expedition be my wing, 

Jove's Mercury, and herald for a king ! 

Go, muster men : My counsel is my shield ; 

"We must be brief, when traitors brave the field. 

K. RICHARD III., A. 4, S. 3. 



DECLINE OF A NATION. 

Woe the while ! our fathers' minds are dead, 
And we are govern' d with our mothers' spirits ; 
Our yoke and sufferance show us womanish. 

JULIUS CJESAR, A. 1, S. 3. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 95 

DEMORALIZATION OF WAR. 

Hold, Clifford; do not honour hhn so much, 
To prick thy finger, though to wound his heart : 
What valour were it, when a cur doth grin, 
For one to thrust his hand between his teeth, 
When he might spurn him with his foot away ? 
It is war's prize to take all vantages ; 
And ten to one is no impeach of valour. 

K. HENRY VI., PART III., A. 1, S. 4. 



DEPRIVATION OFT BRINGS CON- 
SCIOUSNESS OF WORTH. 

There's a great spirit gone! Thus did I desire it: 
What our contempts do often hurl from us, 
We wish it ours again ; the present pleasure, 
By revolution lowering, does become 
The opposite of itself : she's good, being gone; 
The hand could pluck her back, that shov'd her on. 

ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA, A. 1, S. 2. 



DESPERATION OF PHYSICAL 
COURAGE. 

Noreole:. Warlike sovereign, 

This found I on my tent this morning. 

K. Richard. [Beads. 

Jockey of Norfolk, be not too bold, 
For Dickon thy master is bought and sold, 
A thing devised by the enemy. — 
Go, gentlemen, every man unto his charge : 
Let not our babbling dreams affright our souls ; 
Conscience is but a word that cowards use, 



96 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Devis'd at first to keep the strong in awe ; 
Our strong arms be our conscience, swords our 

law. 
March on, join bravely, let us to't pell-mell ; 
If not to heaven, then hand in hand to hell. — 
"What shall I say more than I have infer' d ? 
Remember whom you are to cope withal ; — 
A sort of vagabonds, rascals, and run-aways, 
A scum of Bretagnes, and base lackey peasants, 
"Whom their o'er-cloy'd country vomits forth 
To desperate ventures and assur'd destruction. 
Tou sleeping safe, they bring you to unrest ; 
Tou having lands, and blest with beauteous wives, 
They would distrain the one, distain the other. 
And who doth lead them, but a paltry fellow, 
Long kept in Bretagne at our mother's cost ? 
A milk-sop, one that never in his life 
Felt so much cold as over shoes in snow ? 
Let's whip these stragglers o'er the sea again ; 
Lash hence these over- weening rags of France, 
These famish' d beggars, weary of their lives ; 
Who, but for dreaming on this fond exploit, 
For want of means, poor rats, had hanged them- 
selves. 
If we be conquered, let men conquer us, 
And not these bastard Bretagnes, whom our 

fathers 
Have in their own land beaten, bobb'd, and 

thump' d, 
And, on record, left them the heirs of shame. 
Shall these enjoy our lands ? lie with our wives ? 
Ravish our daughters ? — Hark, I hear their 

drum. 
Fight, gentlemen of England! fight, bold yeomen! 
Draw, archers, draw your arrows to the head ! 
Spur your proud horses hard, and ride in blood ; 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEABE. 97 

Amaze the welkin with your broken staves ! — 
A thousand hearts are great within my bosom : 
Advance our standards, set upon our foes ; 
Our ancient word of courage, fair Saint George, 
Inspire us with the spleen of fiery dragons ! 
Upon them ! Victory sits on our helms. 

K. RICHARD III., A. 5, S. 3. 



DESTINY WITH AND WITHOUT 
GRACE. 

K. Eichaed. All unavoided is the doom of 

destiny. 
Q. Elizabeth. True, when avoided grace 
makes destiny : 
My babes were destin'd to a fairer death, 
If grace had bless' d thee with a fairer life. 

K. RICHARD III., A. 4, S. 4. 



DEVELOPMENT OF THE REFLECTIVE 
POWER. 

Cantehbtjey. The king is full of grace and 
fair regard. 

Ely. And a true lover of the holy church. 

Cant. The courses of his youth promis'd it 
not. 
The breath no sooner left his father's body, 
But that his wildness, mortified in him, 
Seem'd to die too : yea, at that very moment, 
Consideration like an angel came, 
And whipp'd the offending Adam out of him ; 
Leaving his body as a paradise, 
To envelop and contain celestial spirits. 



98 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Never was such a sudden scholar made : 

Never came reformation in a flood, 

"With such a heady current, scouring faults ; 

Nor never Hydra-headed wilfulness 

So soon did lose his seat, and all at once, 

As in this king. 

Ely. "We are blessed in the change. 

Cant. Hear him but reason in divinity, 
And, all-admiring, with an inward wish 
Tou would desire, the king were made a prelate : 
Hear him debate of commonwealth affairs, 
Tou would say, — it hath been all-in-all his study: 
List his discourse of war, and you shall hear 
A fearful battle rendered you in musick : 
Turn him to any cause of policy, 
The Grordian knot of it he will unloose, 
Familiar as his garter ; that, when he speaks, 
The air, a charter 5 d libertine, is still, 
And the mute wonder lurketh in men's ears, 
To steal his sweet and honeyed sentences ; 
So that the art and practick part of life 
Must be the mistress to this theorick : 
Which is a wonder, how his grace should glean it, 
Since his addiction was to courses vain : 
His companies unletter'd, rude, and shallow ; 
His hours filTd up with riots, banquets, sports ; 
And never noted in him any study, 
Any retirement, any sequestration 
From open haunts and popularity. 

Ely. The strawberry grows underneath the 
nettle, 
And wholesome berries thrive and ripen best, 
Neighbour' d by fruit of baser quality: 
And so the prince obscur'd his contemplation 
Unde? the veil of wildness ; which, no doubt, 
Grew like the summer grass, fastest by night, 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 99 

Unseen, yet crescive in his faculty. 

Cant. It must be so ; for miracles are ceas'd ; 
And therefore we must needs admit the means, 
How things are perfected. 

K. HENE7 V., A. I, S.l. 



DINERS OUT. 
I will praise any man that will praise me. 

ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA, A. 2, S. 6. 



DISCRETION THE BETTER PART 

OF VALOUR. 

Falstaff. {Rising slowly. ~] Embowelled ! if 
thou embowel me to-day, I'll give you leave to 
powder me, and eat me too, to-morrow. 'Sblood, 
'twas time to counterfeit, or that hot termagant 
Scot had paid me scot and lot too. Counterfeit ? 
I lie, I am no counterfeit: To die is to be a 
counterfeit; for he is but the counterfeit of a 
man, who hath not the life of a man : but to 
counterfeit dying, when a man thereby liveth, is 
to be no counterfeit, but the true and perfect 
image of life indeed. The better part of valour 
is — discretion ; in the which better part, I have 
saved my life. 'Zounds, I am afraid of this gun- 
powder Percy, though he be dead : How, if he 
should counterfeit too, and rise ? I am afraid, 
he would prove the better counterfeit. There- 
fore I'll make him sure : yea, and I'll swear I 
killed him. Why may not he rise, as well as I ? 
Nothing confutes me but eyes, and nobody sees 
me. 

K. HENRY IV., PART I., A. 5, S. 4. 



ioo THE PHILOSOPHY OF 



DISEASE OF THE TONGUE. 

O deab discretion, how his words are suited ! 
The fool hath planted in his memory 
An army of good words ; And I do know 
A many fools, that stand in better place, 
Garnish' d like him, that for a tricksy word 
Defy the matter. 

MERCHANT OF VENICE, A. 3, S. 5. 



DISOBEDIENCE TO GOD'S LAWS 
BRINGS ITS OWN PUNISHMENT. 

Some say he's mad; others, that lesser hate him, 
Do call it valiant fury : but, for certain, 
He cannot buckle his distemper' d cause 
Within the belt of rule. Now does he feel 
His secret murders sticking on his hands ; 
Now minutely revolts upbraid his faith-breach ; 
Those he commands, move only in command, 
Nothing in love : now does he feel his title 
Hang loose about him, like a giant's robe 
Upon a dwarfish thief. Who then shall blame 
His pester' d senses to recoil, and start, 
When all that is within him does condemn 
Itself, for being there ? 

Well, march we on, 
To give obedience where 'tis truly ow'd : 
Meet we the medicin of the sickly weal : 
And with him pour we, in our country's purge, 
Each drop of us. Or so much as it needs, 
To dew the sovereign flower, and drown the 
weeds. 

MACBETH, A. 5, S. 2. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. i o i 

DISTRESSFUL CHANGES OF 

HUMANITY. 

Not know my voice ! 0, time's extremity ! 
Hast thou so crack' d and splitted my poor tongue, 
In seven short years, that here my only son 
Knows not my feeble key of untun'd cares ? 
Though now this grained face of mine be hid 
In sap-consuming winter's drizzled snow, 
And all the conduits of my blood froze up ; 
Tet hath my night of life some memory, 
My wasting lamps some fading glimmer left, 
My dull deaf ears a little use to hear : 
All these old witnesses (I cannot err,) 
Tell me, thou art my son Antipholus. 

COMEDY OF ERRORS, A. 5, S. 1. 



DISTRIBUTION OF PROVIDENCE. 

Hebe, take this purse, thou whom the heaven's 

plagues 
Have humbled to all strokes : that I am wretched, 
Makes thee the happier : — Heavens, deal so still ! 
Let the superfluous, and lust-dieted man, 
That slaves your ordinance, that will not see 
Because he doth not feel, feel your power quickly; 
So distribution should undo excess, 
And each man have enough. 

KING LEAR. A. 4, S. 1. 



DIVINE GRACE THE SOUL OF 

BEAUTY. 

The hand that made you fair, hath made you 
good: the goodness, that is cheap in beauty, 



102 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

makes beauty brief in goodness ; but grace, being 
the soul of your complexion, should keep the 
body oi it ever fair. 

MEASURE FOR MEASURE, A. 3, S. 1. 



DIVINE INSTINCTS IN MAN. 

When clouds are seen, wise men put on their 

cloaks ; 
"When great leaves fall, then winter is at hand ; 
When the sun sets, who doth not look for night ? 
Untimely storms make men expect a dearth : 
All may be well ; but, if God sort it so, 
'Tis more than we deserve, or I expect. 
Truly, the hearts of men are full of fear : 
Tou cannot reason almost with a man 
That looks not heavily, and full of dread. 
Before the days of change, still is it so : 
By a divine instinct, men's minds mistrust 
Ensuing danger ; as, by proof, we see 
The water swell before a boist'rous storm. 
But leave it all to God. 

K. RICHARD III., A. 2, S. 3. 



DIVINITY OF NOBLE SYMPATHY. 

He that commends me to mine own content, 
Commends me to the thing I cannot get. 
I to the world am like a drop of water, 
That in the ocean seeks another drop ; 
Who, falling there to find his fellow forth, 
Unseen, inquisitive, confounds himself: 
So I, to find a mother, and a brother, 
In quest of them, unhappy, lose myself. 

COMEDY OF ERRORS, A 1, S. 2. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 103 

DIVINE SYMPATHY. 

Orlando. Speak you so gently ? Pardon me, 

I pray you : 
I thought, that all things had been savage here ; 
And therefore put I on the countenance 
Of stern commandment : But whate'er you are, 
That in this desert inaccessible, 
Under the shade of melancholy boughs, 
Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time ; 
If ever you have look'd on better days ; 
If ever been where bells have knoll' d to church ; 
If ever sat at any good man's feast ; 
If ever from your eye-lids wip'd a tear, 
And know what 'tis to pity, and be pitied ; 
Let gentleness my strong enforcement be : 
In the which hope, I blush, and hide my sword. 
Duke. True it is that we have seen better 

days; 
And have with holy bell been knoll' d to church ; 
And sat at good men's feasts; and wip'd our eyes 
Of drops that sacred pity hath engender' d : 
And therefore sit you down in gentleness, 
And take upon command what help we have, 
That to your wanting may be ministred. 

Orl. Then, but forbear your food a little 

while, 
Whiles, like a doe, I go to find my fawn, 
And give it food. There is an old poor man, 
Who after me hath many a weary step 
Limp'd in pure love ; till he be first suffic'd, — 
Oppress' d with two weak evils, age and hunger, — 
I will not touch a bit. 

Duke. G-o find him out, 

And we will nothing waste till you return. 

AS YOU LIKE IT, A. 2, S. 8. 



io 4 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

DOUBLE ATTRACTION OF WEALTH 
WITH GOODNESS. 

Poet. You see this confluence, this great 
flood of visitors. 
I have, in this rough work, shap'd out a man, 
Whom this beneath world doth embrace and hug 
With amplest entertainment : My free drift 
Halts not particularly, but moves itself 
In a wide sea of wax : no levelTd malice 
Infects one comma in the course I hold ; 
But flies an eagle flight, bold, and forth on, 
Leaving no tract behind. 

Paintee. How shall I understand you ? 

Poet. I'll unbolt to you. 

Tou see how all conditions, how all minds, 
(As well of glib and slippery creatures, as 
Of grave and austere quality,) tender down 
Their services to lord Timon : his large fortune, 
Upon his good and gracious nature hanging, 
Subdues and properties to his love and tendance 
All sorts of hearts ; yea, from the glass-fac'd 

flatterer 
To Apemantus, that few things loves better 
Than to abhor himself : even he drops down 
The knee before him, and returns in peace 
Most rich in Timon' s nod. 

TIMON OF ATHENS, A. 1, S. 1, 



DREAMS AND THEIR CONSE- 
QUENCES. 

He dreamt 
To-night the boar had rased off his helm : 
Besides, he says, there are two councils held ; 



WILLIAM SHAKESFJEABU. 105 

And that may be determin'd at the one, 
"Which may make you and him to rue at the 

other. 
Therefore he sends to know your lordship's 

pleasure, — 
If, presently, you will take horse with him, 
And with all speed post with him toward the 

north, 
To shun the danger that his soul divines. 

K. RICHARD III., A. 3, S. 2. 



DUPLICITY. 

O, sir, content you ; 

I follow him to serve my turn upon him : 
We cannot all be masters, nor all masters 
Cannot be truly follow' d. Tou shall mark 
Many a duteous and knee-crooking knave, 
That, doting on his own obsequious bondage, 
Wears out his time, much like his master's ass, 
Tor nought but provender; and, when he's old, 

cashier' d; 
Whip me such honest knaves : Others there are, 
Who, trimm'd in forms and visages of duty, 
Keep yet their hearts attending on themselves ; 
And, throwing but shows of service on their lords, 
Do well thrive by them, and, when they have 

lin'd their coats, 
Do themselves homage : these fellows have some 

soul; 
And such a one do I profess myself. 
Eor, sir, 

It is as sure as you are Boderigo, 
Were I the Moor, I would not be Iago : 
In following him, I follow but myself ; 



106 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Heaven is my judge, not I for love and duty, 

But seeming so, for my peculiar end : 

Tor when my outward action doth demonstrate 

The native act and figure of my heart 

In compliment external, 'tis not long after 

But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve 

For daws to peck at : I am not what I am. 

OTHELLO, A. 1, S. 1. 



EARTHLY CHARMS BECOME 
NOUGHT WHEN HEAVEN ARMS. 

Macduff. Turn, hell-hound, turn. 

Macbeth. Of all men else I have avoided 
thee : 
But get thee back, my soul is too much charg'd 
With blood of thine already. 

Macd. I have no words, 

My voice is in my sword ; thou bloodier villain 
Than terms can give thee out ! [They fight. 

Macb. Thou losest labour : 

As easy may'st thou the intrenchant air 
With thy keen sword impress, as make me bleed. 
Let fall thy blade on vulnerable crests ; 
I bear a charmed life, which must not yield 
To one of woman born. 

Macd. Despair thy charm ; 

And let the angel, whom thou still hast serv'd, 
Tell thee, Macdufi 'was from his mother's womb 
Untimely ripp'd. 

Macb. Accursed be that tongue that tells 
me so, 
For it hath cow'd my better part of man ! 
And be these juggling fiends no more believ'd, 
That palter with us in a double sense ; 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 1 07 

That keep the word of promise to our ear, 
And break it to our hope. — I'll not fight with thee. 

Macd. Then yield thee, coward, 
And live to be the show and gaze 0' the time. 
We'll have thee, as our rarer monsters are, 
Painted upon a pole ; and underwrit, 
Sere may you see the tyrant. 

Macb. I'll not yield, 

To kiss the ground before young Malcolm's feet, 
And to be baited with the rabble's curse. 
Though JBirnam wood be come to Eunsinane, 
And thou oppos'd, being of no woman born, 
Tet I will try the last : before my body 
I throw my warlike shield : lay on, Macduff; 
And damn'd be him that first cries, Sold, enough. 

MACBETH, A. 5, S. 8. 



EARTHLY LOVE MAY SO BE WON, 
BUT HEAVENLY LOVE CAN NEVER 
BE SO INAUGURATED. 

Dtjke. There is a lady, sir, in Milan, here, 
Whom I affect ; but she is nice, and coy, 
And nought esteems my aged eloquence : 
Now, therefore, would I have thee to my tutor, 
(For long agone I have forgot to court : 
Besides, the fashion of the time is chang'd;) 
How, and which way, I may bestow myself, 
To be regarded in her sun-bright eye. 

Valentine. Win her with gifts, if she re- 
spect not words, 
Dumb jewels often, in their silent kind, 
More than quick words, do move a woman's mind. 

Duke. But she did scorn a present that I 
sent her. 



108 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Val. A woman sometimes scorns what best 

contents her : 
Send her another ; never give her o'er ; 
For scorn at first makes after-love the more. 
If she do frown, 'tis not in hate of yon, 
But rather to beget more love in you : 
If she do chide, 'tis not to have you gone ; 
For why, the fools are mad, if left alone. 
Take no repulse, whatever she doth say : 
For, get you gone, she doth not mean, away : 
Flatter, and praise, commend, extol their graces ; 
Though ne'er so black, say, they have angel's 

faces. 
That man that hath a tongue, I say, is no man, 
If with his tongue he cannot win a woman. 

TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA, A. 3, S. 1. 



EARTH'S BLESSING, AND HEAVEN'S 
DAUGHTER 

Who is Silvia ? what is she, 

That all our swains commend her ? 

Holy, fair, and wise is she, 

The heavens such grace did lend her, 

That she might admired be. 

Is she kind, as she is fair ? 

For beauty lives with kindness : 
Love doth to her eyes repair, 

To help him of his blindness ; 
And, being help'd, inhabits there. 
Then to Silvia let us sing, 

That Silvia is excelling ; 
She excels each mortal thing, 

Upon the dull earth dwelling : 
To her let us garlands bring. 

TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA, A. 4, S. 2. 



WILLI All SHAKESPEARE. 1 09 

EASE THE BRAIN, OR THE HEART 
BURSTS. 

Mebciftjl heaven ! — 
What, man ! ne'er pull your hat upon your brows : 
Give sorrow words : the grief, that does not 

speak, 
"Whispers the o'erfraught heart, and bids it break. 

MACBETH, A. 4, S. 3. 



EBB AND FLOW OF FORTUNE. 

Thus, sometimes, hath the brightest day a cloud ; 
And, after summer, evermore succeeds 
Barren winter, with his wrathful nipping cold : 
So cares and joys abound, as seasons fleet. 
Ten is the hour that was appointed me, 
To watch the coming of my punish' d duchess ; 
Badly may she endure the flinty streets, 
To tread them with her tender-feeling feet. 
Sweet Nell, ill can thy noble mind abrook 
The abject people, gazing on thy face, 
With envious looks still laughing at thy shame ; 
That erst did follow thy proud chariot wheels, 
When thou didst ride in triumph through the 
streets. 

K. HENRY VI., PART II., A. 2, S. 4. 



ECONOMY OF LOVE. 

Not that I think, you did not love your father ; 
But that I know, love is begun by time ; 
And that I see, in passages of proof, 
Time qualifies the spark and fire of it. 
There lives within the very flame of love 



A kpd of wick, or snuff, that will abate it ; 

And nothing is at a like goodness still ; 

For goodness, growing to a plurisy, 

Dies in his own too-much : That we would do, 

"We should do when we would; for this would 

changes, 
And hath abatements and delays as many, 
As there are tongues, are hands, are accidents ; 
And then this should is like a spendthrift's sigh, 
That hurts by easing. 

HAMLET, A. 4, S. 7. 



EFFECT OF POWER. 

My uncle is king of Denmark; and those, 
that would make mouths at him while my father 
lived, give twenty, forty, fifty, an hundred ducats 
a-piece, for his picture in little. 'Sblood, there 
is something in this more than natural, if phi- 
losophy could find it out. 

HAMLET, A. 2, S. 2. 



EFFECTS OF STANDING ON DOVER 
CLIFF. 

Come on, sir ; here's the place ; — stand still. — 

How fearful 
And dizzy 'tis, to cast one's eyes so low ! 
The crows, and choughs, that wing the midway 

air, 
Show scarce so gross as beetles : Half way down 
Hangs one that gathers samphire; dreadful trade! 
Methinks, he seems no bigger than his head : 
The fishermen, that walk upon the beach, 
Appear like mice ; and yon' tall anchoring bark, 
Diminish' d to her cock ; her cock, a buoy 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 1 1 1 

Almost too small for sight : The murmuring surge, 
That on the unnumber'd idle pebbles chafes, 
Cannot be heard so high : — I'll look no more ; 
Lest my brain turn, and the deficient sight 
Topple down headlong. 

KING LEAR, A. 4, S. 6. 



ELECTION TACTICS. 

He said, he had wounds, which he could show in 

private ; 
And with his hat, thus waving it in scorn, 
I would be consul, says he : aged custom, 
But by your voices, will not so permit me ; s 
Your voices therefore : When we granted that, 
Here was, — I thank you for your voices, — thank 

you, 
Your most sweet voices : — now you have left your 

voices, 
I have no further with you. 

CORIOLANUS, A. 2, S. 3. 



EVASION. 

"What paper were you reading ? 

Nothing, my lord. 

No ? w r hat needed then that terrible despatch 
of it into your pocket ? the quality of nothing 
hath not such need to hide itself. Let's see: 
Come, if it be nothing, I shall not need spectacles. 

KING LEAR, A. 1, S. 2. 



EVEN REVOLVEMENT NECESSARY 
FOR ALL. 

How now, my lord of Worcester ? 'tis not well, 
That you and I should meet upon such terms 



1 1 2 THE PHILOSOPHY OP 

As now we meet : You have deceiv'd our trust ; 
And made us doff our easy robes of peace, 
To crush our old limbs in ungentle steel : 
That is not well, my lord, this is not well. 
"What say you to't ? will you again unknit 
This churlish knot of all-abhorred war ? 
And move in that obedient orb again, 
Where you did give a fair and natural light ; 
And be no more an exhal'd meteor, 
A prodigy of fear, and a portent 
Of broached mischief to the unborn times ? 

K. HENRY IV., PART I., A. 4, S. 1. 



EVERY ONE HAS A WEAK SIDE,— 
EVEN CiESAR. 

I can as well be hanged, as tell the manner 
of it : it was mere foolery. I did not mark it. 
I saw Mark Antony offer him a crown; — yet 
'twas not a crown neither, 'twas one of these 
coronets ; — and, as I told you, he put it by once ; 
but, for all that, to my thinking, he would fain 
have had it. Then he offered it to him again ; 
then he put it by again : but, to my thinking, he 
was very loath to lay his fingers off it. And 
then he offered it the third time ; he put it the 
third time by: and still as he refused it, the 
rabblement hooted, and clapped their chopped 
hands, and threw up their sweaty night-caps, 
and uttered such a deal of stinking breath be- 
cause Ccesar refused the crown, that it had 
almost choaked Ccesar ; for he swooned, and fell 
down at it : And for mine own part, I durst not 
laugh, for fear of opening my lips, and receiving 
the bad air. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. i 1 3 

Before he fell down, when he perceived the 
common herd was glad he refused the crown, he 
plucked me ope his doublet, and offered them 
his throat to cut. — An I had been a man of any 
occupation, if I would not have taken him at a 
word, I would I might go to hell among the 
rogues: — and so he fell. "When he came to 
himself again, he said, If he had done, or said, 
any thing amiss, he desired their worships to 
think it was his infirmity. Three or four wenches, 
where I stood, cried, Alas, good soul ! — and for- 
gave him with all their hearts: But there's 
no heed to be taken of them; if Ccesar had 
stabbed their mothers, they would have done 
no less. 

JULIUS CiESAE, A. 1, S. 2. 



EVIL BEGETS EVIL. 

And, England, if my love thou hold'st at aught, 
(As my great power thereof may give thee sense ; 
Since yet thy cicatrice looks raw and red 
After the Danish sword, and thy free awe 
Pays homage to us,) thou may'st not coldly set 
Our sovereign process ; which imports at full, 
By letters conjuring to that effect, 
The present death of Hamlet. Do it, England; 
For like the hectic in my blood he rages, 
And thou must cure me : Till I know 'tis done, 
Howe'er my haps, my joys will ne'er begin. 

HAMLET, A. 4, S. 4. 



EVIL CONSCIENCE MAKES 
COWARDS. 

What man dare, I dare : 

Approach thou like the rugged Russian bear, 



ii4 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

The arm'd rhinoceros, or the Hyrcan tiger, 
Take any shape but that, and my firm nerves 
Shall never tremble : Or, be alive again, 
And dare me to the desert with thy sword ; 
If trembling I inhibit thee, protest me 
The baby of a girl. Hence, horrible shadow ! 
Unreal mockery, hence! — Why, so; — being gone, 
I am a man again. — Pray you, sit still. 

Can such things be, 
And overcome us like a summer's cloud, 
Without our special wonder? you make me 

strange 
Even to the disposition that I owe, 
When now I think you can behold such sights, 
And keep the natural ruby of your cheeks, 
When mine are blanch' d with fear. 
It will have blood; they say, blood will have 

blood : 
Stones have been known to move, and trees to 

speak ; 
Augurs, and understood relations, have 
By magot-pies, and choughs, and rooks, brought 

forth 
The secret' st man of blood. 

MACBETH, A. 3, S. 4. 



EVIL DEFENDING ITS OWN. 

Milk-liver'd man ! 
That bear'st a cheek for blows, a head for wrongs ; 
Who hast not in thy brows an eye discerning 
Thine honour from thy suffering; that not 

know'st, 
Pools do those villains pity, who are punish' d 
Ere they have done their mischief. Where's thy 

drum? 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 1 1 5 

France spreads his banners in our noiseless land ; 
With plumed helm thy slayer begins threats ; 
Whilst thou, a moral fool, sitt'st still, and cry'st, 
Alack ! why does he so ? 

KING LEAR, A. 4, S. 2. 



EVIL ENDEAVOURING TO APOLO- 
GISE FOR ITS ACTS. 

Look, what is done cannot be now amended ; 
Men shall deal unadvisedly sometimes, 
Which after-hours give leisure to repent. 
If I did take the kingdom from your sons, 
To make amends, I'll give it to your daughter. 
If I have kill'd the issue of your womb, 
To quicken your increase, I will beget 
Mine issue of your blood upon your daughter. 
A grandam's name is little less in love, 
Than is the doating title of a mother ; 
They are as children, but one step below, 
Even of your mettle, of your very blood ; 
Of all one pain, — save for a night of groans 
Endur'd of her, for whom you bid like sorrow. 
Your children were vexation to your youth, 
But mine shall be a comfort to your age. 
The loss, you have, is but — a son being king, 
And, by that loss, your daughter is made queen. 
I cannot make you what amends I would, 
Therefore accept such kindness as I can. 
Dorset, your son, that, with a fearful soul, 
Leads discontented steps in foreign soil, 
This fair alliance quickly shall call home 
To high promotions and great dignity : 
The king, that calls your beauteous daughter, — 
wife, 



1 1 6 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Familiarly shall call thy Dorset — brother ; 
Again shall you be mother to a king, 
And all the ruins of distressful times 
Bepair'd with double riches of content. 
"What ! we have many goodly days to see : 
The liquid drops of tears that you have shed, 
Shall come again, transform' d to orient pearl; 
Advantaging their loan, with interest 
Of ten-times double gain of happiness. 
Go, then, my mother, to thy daughter go ; 
Make bold her bashful years with your experience ; 
Prepare her ears to hear a wooer's tale; 
Put in her tender heart the aspiring flame 
Of golden sovereignty ; acquaint the princess 
"With the sweet silent hours of marriage joys : 
And when this arm of mine hath chastised 
The petty rebel, dull-brain' d Buckingham, 
Bound with triumphant garlands will I come, 
And lead thy daughter to a conqueror's bed ; 
To whom I will retail my conquest won, 
And she shall be sole victress, Ccesar's Ccesar. 

K. RICHARD III., A. 4, S. 4. 



EVIL A QUALITY THAT HAS OFT 
NO PRESCIENCE. 

Lady Macbeth. Was the hope drunk, 
Wherein you dress' d yourself? hath it slept 

since? 
And wakes it now, to look so green and pale 
At what it did so freely ? From this time, 
Such I account thy love. Art thou afeard 
To be the same in thine own act and valour, 
As thou art in desire ? Would'st thou have that 
Which thou esteem'st the ornament of life, 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 1 1 7 

And live a coward in thine own esteem ; 
Letting I dare not wait upon I would, 
Like the poor cat i' the adage ? 

Macbeth. Pr'ythee, peace : 

I dare do all that may become a man ; 
Who dares do more, is none. 

Lady M. What beast was it then, 

That made you break this enterprise to me ? 
When you durst do it, then you were a man ; 
And, to be more than what you were, you would 
Be so much more the man. Nor time, nor place, 
Did then adhere, and yet you would make both : 
They have made themselves, and that their fitness 

now 
Does unmake you. I have given suck, and know 
How tender 'tis, to love the babe that milks me : 
I would, while it was smiling in my face, 
Have pluck' d my nipple from his boneless gums, 
And dash'd the brains out, had I so sworn, as you 
Have done to this. 

Macb. If we should fail, 

LadtM. We fail! 

But screw your courage to the sticking place, 
And we'll not fail. When Duncan is asleep, 
(Whereto the rather shall his day's hard journey 
Soundly invite him,) his two chamberlains 
Will I with wine and wassel so convince, 
That memory, the warder of the brain, 
Shall be a fume, and the receipt of reason 
A limbeck only : When in swinish sleep 
Their drenched natures lie, as in a death, 
What cannot you and I perform upon 
The unguarded Duncan ? what not put upon 
His spongy officers ; who shall bear the guilt 
Of our great crime ? 

Macb. Bring forth men children only ; 



1 1 8 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Eor thy undaunted mettle should compose 
Nothing but males. Will it not be receiv'd, 
"When we have mark'd with blood those sleepy 

two 
Of his own chamber, and us'd their very daggers, 
That they have done't ? 

Lady M. "Who dares receive it other, 

As we shall make our griefs and clamour roar 
Upon his death ? 

Macb. I am settled, and bend up 

Each corporal agent to this terrible feat. 
Away, and mock the time with fairest show : 
Ealse face must hide what the false heart doth 

know. 

MACBETH, A. 1, S. 7. 



EVIL MINDS DELIGHT IN SCANDAL. 

Opek your ears ; Eor which of you will stop 
The vent of hearing, when loud Biwiour speaks? 
I, from the orient to the drooping west, 
Making the wind my post-horse, still unfold 
The acts commenced on this ball of earth : 
Upon my tongues continual slanders ride ; 
The which in every language I pronounce, 
Stuffing the ears of men with false reports. 
I speak of peace, while covert enmity, 
Under the smile of safety, wounds the world : 
And who but Bumour, who but only I, 
Make fearful musters, and prepar'd defence ; 
Whilst the big year, swol'n with some other grief, 
Is thought with child by the stern tyrant war, 
And no such matter ! Bvmour is a pipe 
Blown by surmises, jealousies, conjectures ; 
And of so easy and so plain a stop, 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 1 1 9 

That the blunt monster with uncounted heads, 
The still-discordant wavering multitude, 
Can play upon it. 

K. henry it., part II., Induction, 



EVIL PERSONIFIED. 

I do the wrong, and first begin to brawl. 
The secret mischiefs that I set abroach, 
I lay unto the grievous charge of others. 
Clarence, — whom I, indeed, have laid in dark- 
ness, — 
I do beweep to many simple gulls ; 
Namely, to Stanley, Hastings, Buckingham ; 
And tell them — 'tis the queen and her allies, 
That stir the king against the duke my brother. 
Now they believe it ; and withal whet me 
To be reveng'd on Rivers, Vaughan, Gi*ey : 
But then I sigh, and, with a piece of scripture, 
Tell them — that God bids us do good for evil : 
And thus I clothe my naked villainy 
With old odd ends, stol'n forth of holy writ, 
And seem a saint, when most I play the devil. 

K. RICHARD III., A. 1, S. 3. 



EVIL RECOILS. 

O, that this too too solid flesh would melt, 

Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew ! 

Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd 

His canon 'gainst self-slaughter! God! O 

God! 
How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable 
Seem to me all the uses of this world ! 
Eye on't ! O fye ! 'tis an unweeded garden, 



120 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

That grows to seed ; things rank, and gross in 

nature, 
Possess it merely. That it should come to this ! 
But two months dead! — nay, not so much, not 

two; 
So excellent a king ; that was, to this, 
Hyperion to a satyr : so loving to my mother, 
That he might not let e'en the winds of heaven 
Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth ! 
Must I remember ? why, she would hang on him, 
As if increase of appetite had grown 
By what it fed on : And yet, within a month, — 
Let me not think on't; — Frailty, thy name is 

woman ! — 
A little month ; or ere those shoes were old, 
With which she follow' d my poor father's body, 
Like Niobe y all tears : — why she, even she, — 
O heaven ! a beast, that wants discourse of reason, 
Would have mourn' d longer, — married with my 

uncle, 
My father's brother ; but no more like my father, 
Than I to Hercules : Within a month ; 
Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears 
Had left the flushing in her galled eyes, 
She married : — most wicked speed, to post 
With such dexterity to incestuous sheets ! 
It is not, nor it cannot come to, good ; 
But break, my heart ; for I must hold my tongue! 

HAMLET, A. 1, S. 2. 



EVILS OF DIVIDED COUNCILS. 

Exeter. How were they lost ? what treachery 

was us'd? 
Messenger. No treachery ; but want of men 

and money. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 1 2 1 

Among the soldiers this is muttered, — 

That here you maintain several factions ; 

And, whilst a field should be despatch' d and 

fought, 
You are disputing of your generals. 
One would have Eng'ring wars, with little cost ; 
Another would fly swift, but wanteth wings ; 
A third man thinks, without expense at all, 
By guileful fair words peace may be obtain'd. 
Awake, awake, English nobility ! 
Let not sloth dim your honours, new-begot ; 
Cropp'd are the flower-de-luces in your arms ; 
Of England's coat one-half is cut away. 

X. HENRY VI., PART I., A. 1, S. 1. 



EXTINCT ANTIPATHIES. 

How like a fawning publican he looks ! 

I hate him, for he is a Christian : 

But more, for that, in low simplicity, 

He lends out money gratis, and brings down 

The rate of usance here with us in Venice. 

If I can catch him once upon the hip, 

I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him. 

He hates our sacred nation ; and he rails, 

Even there where merchants most do congregate, 

On me, my bargains, and my well-won thrift, 

Which he calls interest : Cursed be my tribe, 

If I forgive him ! 

MERCHANT OF VENICE, A. 1, S. 3. 



EXTREMITY OF EVIL. 

Diseases, desperate grown, 
By desperate appliance are reliev'd, 
Or not at all. 

HAMLET, A. 4, S. 3. 



122 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

FAITHFULNESS ADMIRED EVEN 

BY THE ENEMY. 

Miste honesty, and I, begin to square. 

The loyalty, well held to fools, does make 

Our faith mere folly : — Yet, he, that can endure 

To follow with allegiance a fallen lord, 

Does conquer him that did his master conquer, 

And earns a place i' the story. 

ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA, A. 3, S. 11. 



FALSTAFFS PHILOSOPHY OF 
MENTAL AND PHYSICAL COURAGE. 

Good faith, this same young sober-blooded 
boy doth not love me ; nor a man cannot make 
him laugh ; — but that's no marvel, he drinks no 
wine. There's never any of these demure boys 
come to any proof ; for thin drink doth so over- 
cool their blood, and making many fish-meals, 
that they fall into a kind of male green-sickness ; 
and then, when they marry, they get wenches : 
they are generally fools and cowards ; — which 
some of us should be too, but for inflammation. 
A good sherris-sack hath a two-fold operation in 
it. It ascends into the brain; dries there all 
the foolish, and dull, and crudy vapours which 
environ it: makes it apprehensive, quick, for- 
getive, full of nimble, fiery, and delectable shapes; 
which delivered o'er to the tongue, which is the 
birth, becomes excellent wit. The second pro- 
perty of your excellent sherris is, — the warming 
of the blood ; which, before cold and settled, left 
the liver white and pale, which is the badge of 
pusillanimity and cowardice: but the sherris 



WILLIAM SHAKJESFUAJRU. 1 2 3 

warms it and makes it course from the inwards 
to the parts extreme. It illumineth the face; 
which, as a beacon, gives warning to all the rest 
of this little kingdom, man, to arm : and then 
the vital commoners, and inland petty spirits, 
muster me all to their captain, the heart ; who, 
great, and puffed up with this retinue, doth 
any deed of courage ; and this valour comes of 
sherris : So that skill in the weapon is nothing 
without sack ; for that sets it a-work : and 
learning a mere hoard of gold kept by a devil ; 
till sack commences it, and sets it in act and 
use. Hereof comes it, that prince Harry is 
valiant: for the cold blood he did naturally 
inherit of his father, he hath, like lean, steril, 
and bare land, manured, husbanded, and tilled, 
with excellent endeavour of drinking good, 
and good store of fertile sherris; that he is 
become very hot, and valiant. If I had a 
thousand sons, the first human principle I would 
teach them, should be, — to forswear thin pota- 
tions, and addict themselves to sack. 

K. HENRY IV., PART II., A. 4, S. 3. 



FATALISM. 

My fate cries out, 
And makes each petty artery in this body 
As hardy as the Nemean lion's nerve. 

HAMLET, A. 1, S. 4. 



FATE OF FAVOURITES. 

BKi^a forth these men. — 

Bushy, and Green, I will not vex your souls 



i2 4 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

(Since presently your souls must part your 

bodies,) 
With too much urging your pernicious lives, 
For 'twere no charity : yet, to wash your blood 
From off my hands, here, in the view of men, 
I will unfold some causes of your death. 
You have misled a prince, a royal king, 
A happy gentleman in blood and lineaments, 
By you unhappied and disfigur'd clean. 
You have, in manner, with your sinful hours, 
Made a divorce betwixt his queen and him ; 
Broke the possession of a royal bed, 
And stain' d the beauty of a fair queen's cheeks 
With tears drawn from her eyes by your foul 

wrongs. 
Myself— a prince, by fortune of my birth; 
Near to the king in blood ; and near in love, 

Till you did make him misinterpret me, 

Have stoop'd my neck under your injuries, 
And sigh'd my English breath in foreign clouds, 
Eating the bitter bread of banishment : 
Whilst you have fed upon my seignories, 
Destroy' d my parks, and fell'd my forest woods ; 
From my own windows torn my household 

coat, 
Raz'd out my motto, leaving me no sign, — 
Save men's opinions, and my living blood, — 
To show the world I am a gentleman, 
This, and much more, much more than twice all 

this, 
Condemns you to the death : — See them de- 

liver'd over 
To execution, and the hand of death. 

K. RICHARD II., A. 3, S. 1. 



WILLIAM SHAKFSFJSASU. 1 2 5 

FEAST WON— FAST LOST. 

Flavttts. If you suspect my husbandry, or 

falsehood, 
Call me before the exactest auditors, 
And set me on the proof. So the gods bless me, 
When all our officers have been oppress' d 
"With riotous feeders : when our vaults have wept 
With drunken spilth of wine ; when every room 
Hath blaz'd with lights, and bray'd with 

minstrelsy ; 
I have retir'd me to a wasteful cock, 
And set mine eyes at flow. 

Timon. Pr'ythee, no more. 

Flav. Heavens, have I said, the bounty of 

this lord ! 
How many prodigal bits have slaves, and peasants, 
This night englutted ! Who is not TimorCs ? 
What heart, head, sword, force, means, but is 

lord TimorCs ? 
Great Timon, noble, worthy, royal Timon ? 
Ah! when the means are gone, that buy this 

praise, 
The breath is gone whereof this praise is made : 
Feast- won, fast-lost ; one cloud of winter showers, 
These flies are couch' d. 

TIMON OF ATHENS, A. 2, S. 2. 



FEELING. 

Thy heart is big, get thee apart and weep. 
Passion, I see, is catching ; for mine eyes, 
Seeing those beads of sorrow stand in thine, 
Began to water. 

JULIUS CESAR, A. 3, S. 1. 



iz6 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

FEELING MAY TEMPER, BUT MAY 
NOT OVERCOME, JUSTICE. 

These couchings, and these lowly courtesies, 
Might fire the blood of ordinary men ; 
And turn pre-ordinance, and first decree, 
Into the law of children. Be not fond, 
To think that Ccesar bears such rebel blood, 
That will be thaw'd from the true quality 
"With that which melteth fools ; I mean sweet 

words, 
Low crook' d curtsies, and base spaniel fawning. 
Thy brother by decree is banished ; 
If thou dost bend, and pray, and fawn, for him, 
I spurn thee like a cur out of my way. 
Know, Ccesar doth not wrong: nor without 

cause 
Will he be satisfied. 

JULIUS CJESAR, A. 3, S. I. 



FEELING WITHOUT PRINCIPLE. 

0, wobld, thy slippery turns ! Priends now fast 

sworn, 
Whose double bosoms seem to wear one heart, 
Whose hours, whose bed, whose meal, and 

exercise, 
Are still together, who twin, as 'twere, in love 
Unseparable, shall within this hour, 
On a dissention of a doit, break out 
To bitterest enmity : So, fellest foes, 
Whose passions and whose plots have broke 

their sleep 
To take the one the other, by some chance, 
Some trick not worth an egg, shall grow dear 

friends, 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEABE. 1 27 

And interjoin their issues. So with me : — 
My birth-place hate I, and my love's upon 
This enemy-town. — I'll enter : if he slay me, 
He does fair justice ; if he give me way, 
I'll do his country service. 

CORIOLANUS, A. 4, S. 4. 



FICKLENESS OF POPULAR 
OPINION. 

'Faith, there have been many great men that 
have nattered the people, who ne'er lov'd them; 
and there be many that they have loved, they 
know not wherefore : so that, if they love they 
know not why, they hate upon no better a 
ground. 

COBIOLANUS, A. 2, S. 2. 



FILIAL INGRATITUDE. 

Return to her ? 

No, rather I abjure all roofs, and choose 

To wage against the enmity o' the air ; 

To be a comrade with the wolf and owl, — 

Necessity's sharp pinch ! — Return with her ? 

Why, the hot-blooded France, that dowerless 

took 
Our youngest born, I could as well be brought 
To knee his throne, and, squire-like, pension beg 
To keep base life afoot : — Return with her ? 
Persuade me rather to be slave and sumpter 
To this detested groom. 
I pr'ythee, daughter, do not make me mad ; 
I will not trouble thee, my child ; farewell : 
We'll no more meet, no more see one another : — 
But yet thou art my flesh, my blood, my daughter ; 



128 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Or, rather, a disease that's in my flesh, 
Which I must needs call mine ; thou art a boil, 
A plague-sore, an embossed carbuncle, 
In my corrupted blood. But I'll not chide thee ; 
Let shame come when it will, I do not call it : 
I do not bid the thunder-bearer shoot, 
Nor tell tales of thee to high-judging Jove : 
Mend, when thou canst ; be better, at thy leisure : 
I can be patient. 

KING LEAR, A. 2, S. 4. 



FILIAL INGRATITUDE. 

I would not see thy cruel nails 
Pluck out his poor old eyes ; nor thy fierce sister 
In his anointed flesh stick boarish fangs. 
The sea, with such a storm as his bare head 
In hell-black night endur'd, would have buoy'd 

up, 
And quench' d the starred fires : yet, poor old 

heart, 
He holp the heavens to rain. 
If wolves had at thy gate howl'd that stern time, 
Thou should' st have said, Good porter, turn the 

hey; 
All cruels else submitted. — But I shall see 
The winged vengeance overtake such children. 

KING LEAR, A. 3, S. 7. 



FIRST LOVE. 

How! how! another? — 
Tou gentle gods, give me but this I have, 
And sear up my embracements from a next 
With bonds of death ! — Remain thou here 

{Putting on the ring. 



WILLIAM SHAKJEJSPUABU. 1 29 

While sense can keep it on! And sweetest, 

fairest, 
As I my poor self did exchange for you, 
To your so infinite loss ; so, in our trifles 
I still win of you : For my sake, wear this ; 
It is a manacle of love ; I'll place it 
Upon this fairest prisoner. 

CYMBELINE, A. 1, S. 2. 

FLATTERY. 

Yes, he is worthy of thee, and to pay thee for 
thy labour: He, that loves to be flatter' d, is 
worthy o' the flatterer. 

TIMON OP ATHENS, A. 1, S. 1. 



FLATTERY OF HEROES. 

Never fear that : If he be so resolv'd, 
I can o'ersway him : for he loves to hear, 
That unicorns may be betray' d with trees, 
And bears with glasses, elephants with holes, 
Lions with toils, and men with flatterers : 
But, when I tell him, he hates flatterers, 
He says, he does ; being then most flattered. 
Let me work : 

For I can give his humour the true bent ; 
And I will bring him. 

JULIUS CffiSAR, A. 2, S. 1. 



FORCED MARRIAGES ARE OFT 

MISCARRIAGES. 

Parolles. To the wars, my boy, to the wars ! 
He wears his honour in a box unseen, 
That hugs his kicksy-wicksey here at home. 



130 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Bertram. It shall be so; I'll send her to 
my house, 
Acquaint my mother with my hate to her, 
And wherefore I am fled ; write to the king 
That which I durst not speak : His present gift 
Shall furnish me to those fields, 
"Where noble fellows strike : War is no strife 
To the dark house, and the detested wife. 

Par. Will this capricio hold in thee, art sure ? 

Ber. Go with me to my chamber, and advise me. 
I'll send her straight away : To-morrow 
I'll to the wars, she to her single sorrow. 

Par. Why, these balls bound ; there's noise 
in it. 'Tishard; 
A young man, married, is a man that's marr'd : 
Therefore away, and leave her bravely ; go : 
The king has done you wrong : but, hush ! 'tis so. , 

all's well that ends well, A. 2, s. 3. 



FORCED MARRIAGES MAKE DESERT 
HOMES. 

Till I have no wife, I have nothing in France. 
Nothing in France, until he has no wife ! 
Thou shalt have none, Bousillon, none in France, 
Then hast thou all again. Poor lord ! is't I 
That chase thee from thy country, and expose 
Those tender limbs of thine to the event 
Of the none-sparing war ? and is it I 
That drive thee from the sportive court, where thou 
Wast shot at with fair eyes, to be the mark 
Of smoky muskets ? O you leaden messengers, 
That ride upon the violent speed of fire, 
Ply with false aim ; move the still-piercing air, 



WILLIAM 8HAKESPJEABE. 1 3 1 

That sings with piercing, do not touch my lord ! 
Whoever shoots at him, I set him there ; 
Whoever charges on his forward breast, 
I am the caitiff, that do hold him to it ; 
And, though I kill him not, I am the cause 
His death was so effected : better 'twere, 
I met the raving lion when he roar'd 
With sharp constraint of hunger ; better 'twere 
That all the miseries, which nature owes, 
Were mine at once: No, come thou home, 

Bousillon, 
Whence honour but of danger wins a scar, 
As oft it loses all ; I will be gone : 
My being here it is, that holds thee hence : 
Shall I stay here to do't ? no, no, although 
The air of paradise did fan the house, 
And angels offie'd all : I will be gone ; 
That pitiful rumour may report my flight, 
To consolate thine ear. Come, night ; end, day ! 
For, with the dark, poor thief, I'll steal away. 

all's well that ends well, a. 3, s. 2. 



FORCE OF SOUL. 

O, he sits high, in all the people's hearts ; 
And that which would appear offence in us, 
His countenance, like richest alchymy, 
Will change to virtue, and to worthiness. 

JULIUS C-ESAR, A. 1, S. 3. 



FOREBODING. 

Aaeok is gone ; and my compassionate heart 
Will not permit mine eyes once to behold 
The thing, whereat it trembles by surmise : 



1 3 2 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

O, tell me how it is ; for ne'er till now 
"Was I a child, to fear I know not what. 

TITUS ANDRONICUS, A. 2, S. 4. 



FORGET PRINCIPLE, AND CHAOS 

COMES. 

You were half blasted ere I knew you : — Ha ! 

Have I my pillow left impress' d in Rome, 

Forborne the getting of a lawful race, 

And by a gem of women, to be abus'd 

By one that looks on feeders ? 

Tou have been a boggier ever : — 

But when we in our viciousness grow hard, 

(0 misery on't !) the wise gods seal our eyes ; 

In our own filth drop our clear judgments ; 

make us 
Adore our errors ; laugh at us, while we strut 
To our confusion. 

I found you as a morsel, ceid upon 
Dead Casals trencher : nay, you were a fragment 
Of Cneius Pompey's ; besides what hotter hours, 
Unregister'd in vulgar fame, you have 
Luxuriously picked out : — Por, I am sure, 
Though you can guess what temperance should 

be, 
Tou know not what it is. 

ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA, A. 3, S. 11. 



FORTUNE FAILS WITH THE LOSS 
OF PRINCIPLE. 
Antony. Hark, the land bids me tread no 
more upon't ; 
It is asham'd to bear me ! — Friends, come hither, 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 1 3 3 

I am so lated in the world, that I 
Have lost my way for ever : — I have a ship 
Laden with gold ; take that, divide it ; fly, 
And make your peace with Caesar. 

Attendants. Fly ! not we. 

Ant. I have fled myself: and have instructed 

cowards 
To run, and show their shoulders. — Friends, be 

gone; 
I have myself resolv'd upon a course, 
Which has no need of you ; be gone : 
My treasure's in the harbour ; take it. — 0, 
I follow' d that I blush to look upon: 
My very hairs do mutiny : for the white 
Reprove the brown for rashness, and they them 
For fear and doting. — Friends, be gone; you 

shall 
Have letters from me to some friends, that will 
Sweep your way for you. Pray you, look not 

sad, 
Nor make replies of loathness : take the hint 
Which my despair proclaims ; let that be left 
Which leaves itself: to the sea side straightway: 
I will possess you of that ship and treasure. 
Leave me, I pray, a little : 'pray you now : — 
Nay, do so ; for, indeed, I have lost command, 
Therefore I pray you : — I'll see you by and by. 

ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA, A. 3, S. 9. 



FINDING THE STRAWBERRY, 
UNDER THE NETTLE. 

GrLOSTER, 'tis true, that we are in great danger ; 
The greater, therefore, should our courage be. — 
Grood morrow, brother Bedford. — Grod Almighty ! 



1 34 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

There is some soul of goodness in things evil, 
"Would men observingly distil it out ; 
For our bad neighbour makes us early stirrers, 
Which is both healthful, and good husbandry : 
Besides, they are our outward consciences, 
And preachers to us all ; admonishing, 
That we should dress us fairly for our end. 
Thus may we gather honey from the weed, 
And make a moral of the devil himself. 

K. HENRY V., A. 4, S. I. 



FORTITUDE IN EXTREMITY. 

Messed gee. The nature of bad news infects 

the teller. 
Antony. "When it concerns the fool, or 
coward. — On : 
Things, that are past, are done with me. — 'Tis 

thus: 
Who tells me true, though in his tale lie death, 
I hear him as he flatter' d. 

ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA, A. 1, S. 2. 



FREEDOM OF THOUGHT. 

Though I am bound to every act of duty, 
I am not bound to that all slaves are free to. 
Utter my thoughts ? Why, say, they are vile 

and false, — 
As where's that palace, whereunto foul things 
Sometimes intrude not? who has a breast so 

pure, 
But some uncleanly apprehensions 
Keep leets, and law-days, and in session sit 
With meditations lawful ? 

OTHELLO, A. 3, S. 3. 



WILLIAM SHAKUSPEABE. 1 3 5 

FRIENDSHIP. 

I tell thee, 
Thy general is my lover. I have been 
The book of his good acts, whence men have read 
His fame unparallel'd, haply, amplified ; 
For I have ever verified my friends, 
(Of whom he's chief,) with all the size that 

verity 
Would without lapsing suffer : nay, sometimes, 
Like to a bowl upon a subtle ground, 
I have tumbled past the throw ; and in his praise 
Have, almost, stamp' d the leasing. 

CORIOLANUS, A. 5, S. 2. 



FRIENDSHIP. 

I never do him wrong, 
But he does buy my injuries, to be friends ; 
Pays dear for my offences. 

CTMBELINE, A. 1, S. 2. 



FRIENDSHIP'S AGONY. 

I dotjbt not of your wisdom. 
Let each man render me his bloody hand : 
First, Marcus Brutus, will I shake with you : 
Next, Caius Cassius, do I take your hand ; 
Now, Decius Brutus, yours; — now yours, Me- 

tellus ; 
Tours, Cinna; — and, my valiant Casca, yours ; — 
Though last, not least in love, yours, good Tre- 

bonius. 
Q-entlemen all, — alas ! what shall I say ? 
My credit now stands on such slippery ground, 
That one of two bad ways you must conceit me, 



136 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Either a coward or a flatterer. — 
That I did love thee, Ccesar, 0, 'tis true : 
If then thy spirit look upon us now, 
Shall it not grieve thee, dearer than thy death, 
To see thy Antony making his peace, 
Shaking the bloody fingers of thy foes, 
Most noble ! in the presence of thy corse ? 
Had I as many eyes as thou hast wounds, 
Weeping as fast as they stream forth thy blood, 
It would become me better, than to close 
In terms of friendship with thine enemies. 
Pardon me, Julius! — Here wast thou bay'd, 

brave hart; 
Here didst thou fall ; and here thy hunters stand, 
Sign'd in thy spoil, and crimson' d in thy lethe. 
world ! thou wast the forest to this hart ; 
And this, indeed, O world, the heart of thee. — 
How like a deer, stricken by many princes, 
Dost thou here lie ! 

Pardon me, Caius Cassius, 
The enemies of Ccesar shall say this ; 
Then, in a friend, it is cold modesty. 
Therefore I took your hands ; but was, indeed, 
Sway'd from the point, by looking down on 

Ccesar. 
Priends am I with you all, and love you all ; 
Upon this hope, that you shall give me reasons, 
"Why, and wherein Ccesar was dangerous. 

That's all I seek: 
And am moreover suitor, that I may 
Produce his body to the market-place ; 
And in the pulpit, as becomes a friend, 
Speak in the order of his funeral. 

JULIUS CJESAR, A. 3, S. 1. 



WILLIAM SRAXESPUAEU. 1 3 7 

FRIENDSHIPS AGONY. 

Bassaklo. Good cheer, Antonio ! What, 

man ? courage yet ! 
The Jew shall have my flesh, blood, bones, and 

all, 
Ere thou shalt lose for me one drop of blood. 
Antonio. I am a tainted wether of the 

flock, 
Meetest for death ; the weakest kind of fruit 
Drops earliest to the ground, and so let me : 
You cannot better be employ' d, Bassanio, 
Than to live still, and write mine epitaph. 

MERCHANT OF VENICE, A. 4, S. 1. 



FRIENDS IN SIN ARE SELDOM 

FRIENDS IN NEED. 

Northumberland, thou ladder wherewithal 
The mounting Bolinglrohe ascends my throne, — 
The time shall not be many hours of age 
More than it is, ere foul sin, gathering head, 
Shall break into corruption : thou shalt think, 
Though he divide the realm, and give thee half, 
It is too little, helping him to all ; 
And he shall think, that thou, which know'st 

the way 
To plant unrightful kings, wilt know again, 
Being ne'er so little urg'd, another way 
To pluck him headlong from the usurped throne. 
The love of wicked friends converts to fear ; 
That fear, to hate ; and hate turns one, or both, 
To worthy danger, and deserved death. 

K. RICHARD II., A. 5, S. 1. 



138 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

FKIENDS IN COUNCIL :— ON 
GOVERNMENT. 
Duke. ISscalus, — 
Of government the properties to unfold, 
"Would seem in me to affect speech and discourse; 
Since, I am put to know, that your own science 
Exceeds, in that, the lists of all advice 
My strength can give you: Then no more re- 
mains 
Put that to your sufficiency, as your worth is 



And let them work. The nature of our people, 

Our city's institutions, and the terms 

Eor common justice, you are as pregnant in, 

As art and practice hath enriched any 

That we remember : There is our commission, 

Erom which we would not have you warp. — Call 

hither, 
I say, bid come before us Angelo. 
What figure of us think you he will bear ? 
Eor you must know, we have with special soul 
Elected him our absence to supply ; 
Lent him our terror, drest him with our love ; 
And given his deputation all the organs 
Of our own power : What think you of it ? 
Esc ALUS. If any in Vienna be of worth 
To undergo such ample grace and honour, 
It is lord Angelo. 

MEASURE FOR MEASURE, A. 1, S. 1. 



FRIENDS IN COUNCIL— THE DIFFI- 
CULTY OF BEING GENTLE, AND 
YET SEVERE. 

Duke. No ; holy father ; throw away that 
thought ; 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 1 39 

Believe not that the dribbling dart of love 
Can pierce a complete bosom : why I desire thee 
To give me secret harbour, hath a purpose 
More grave and wrinkled than the aims and 

ends 
Of burning youth. 

My holy sir, none better knows than you 
How I have ever lov'd the life removed ; 
And held in idle price to haunt assemblies, 
Where youth, and cost, and witless bravery 

keeps. 
I have deliver' d to lord Angelo 
(A man of stricture, and firm abstinence,) 
My absolute power and place here in Vienna, 
And he supposes me travelTd to Poland; 
For so I have strewed it in the common ear, 
And so it is receiv'd : Now, pious sir, 
Tou will demand of me, why I do this ? 
We have strict statutes, and most biting laws, 
(The needful bits and curbs for head-strong 

steeds,) 
Which for these fourteen years we have let 

sleep ; 
Even like an o'er-grown lion in a cave, 
That goes not out to prey : JSTow, as fond fathers, 
Having bound up the threat'ning twigs of birch, 
Only to stick it in their children's sight, 
For terror, not to use ; in time the rod 
Becomes more mock'd, than fear'd : so our 

decrees, 
Dead to infliction, to themselves are dead ; 
And liberty plucks justice by the nose ; 
The baby beats the nurse, and quite athwart 
Groes all decorum. 

Fbiar. It rested in your grace 

To unloose this tied-up justice, when you pleas' d : 



140 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

And it in you more dreadful would have seem'd, 
Than in lord Angelo. 

Duke. I do fear, too dreadful: 

Sith 'twas my fault to give the people, scope, 
'Twould be my tyranny to strike and gall them 
For what I bid them do : Tor we bid this be 

done, 
When evil deeds have their permissive pass, 
And not the punishment. Therefore, indeed, 

my father, 
I have on Angelo impos'd the office ; 
Who may, in the ambush of my name, strike 

home, 
And yet my nature never in the sight, 
To do it slander : And to behold his sway, 
I will, as 'twere a brother of your order, 
Visit both prince and people : therefore, 1 

pr'ythee, 
Supply me with the habit, and instruct me 
How I may formally in person bear me 
Like a true friar. More reasons for this action, 
At our more leisure shall I render you ; 
Only, this one : — Lord Angelo is precise ; 
Stands at a guard with envy ; scarce confesses 
That his blood nowsj or that his appetite 
Is more to bread than stone : Hence shall we see, 
If power change purpose, what our seemers be. 

MEASURE FOR MEASURE, A, 1, S. 4. 



FRIENDS IN COUNCIL— THE GREAT 
DUKE. 

Duke. Look, where he comes. 

Angelo. Always obedient to your grace's 
will, 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 141 

I come to know your pleasure. 

Duke. Anffelo, 

There is a bind of character in thy Hfe, 
That, to the observer, doth thy history 
Fully unfold : Thyself and thy belongings 
Are not thine own so proper, as to waste 
Thyself upon thy virtues, them on thee. 
Heaven doth with us, as we with torches do ; 
Not light them for themselves : for if our virtues 
Did not go forth of us, 'twere all alike 
As if we had them not. Spirits are not finely 

touch' d, 
But to fine issues : nor nature never lends 
The smallest scruple of her excellence, 
But, like a thrifty goddess, she determines 
Herself the glory of a creditor, 
Both thanks and use. But I do bend my speech 
To one that can my part in him advertise ; 
Hold therefore, Angelo ; 
In our remove, be thou at full ourself : 
Mortality and mercy in Vienna 
Live in thy tongue and heart : Old Escaliis, 
Though first in question, is thy secondary : 
Take thy commission. No more evasion : 
"We have with a leaven' d and prepared choice 
Proceeded to you ; therefore take your honours. 
Our haste from hence is of so quick condition, 
That it prefers itself, and leaves unquestion'd 
Matters of needful value. We shall write to 

you, 
As time and our concernings shall importune, 
How it goes with us ; and do look to know 
What doth befall you here. So, fare you well : 
To the hopeful execution do I leave you 
Of your commissions. 

Ais'G. Yet, give leave, my lord, 



H2 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

That we may bring you something on the way. 

Duke. My haste may not admit it ; 
Nor need you, on mine honour, have to do 
With any scruple : your scope is as mine own : 
So to enforce, or qualify the laws 
As to your soul seems good. Give me your 

hand; 
I'll privily away : I love the people, 
But do not like to stage me to their eyes : 
Though it do well, I do not relish well 
Their loud applause, and ernes vehement : 
Nor do I think the man of safe discretion, 
That does affect it. Once more, fare you well. 

Ang. The heavens give safety to your pur- 
poses ! 

Escal. Lead forth, and bring you back in 
happiness. 

Duke. I thank you : Fare you well. 

MEASURE FOB MEASURE, A. 1, S. 1. 



GAIN AND KEEP A VIRTUOUS 
SISTER'S LOVE. 

Lucio. This is the point. 

The duke is very strangely gone from hence ; 
Bore many gentlemen, myself being one, 
In hand, and hope of action : but we do learn, 
By those that know the very nerves of state, 
His givings out were of an infinite distance 
Erom his true-meant design. Upon his place, 
And with full line of his authority, 
Governs lord Angelo : a man, whose blood 
Is very snow-broth ; one who never feels 
The wanton stings and motions of the sense ; 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 1 43 

But doth rebate and blunt his natural edge 
"With profits of the mind, study and fast. 
He (to give fear to use and liberty, 
Which have, for long, run by the hideous law, 
As mice by lions,) hath pick'd out an act, 
Under whose heavy sense your brother's life 
Ealls into forfeit : he arrests him on it ; 
And follows close the rigour of the statute, 
To make him an example ; all hope is gone, 
Unless you have the grace by your fair prayer 
To soften Angelo : And that's my pith 
Of business 'twixt you and your poor brother. 

He has censur'd him 
Already ; and, as I hear, the provost hath 
A warrant for his execution. 

Isabella. My power ! alas ! I doubt. — 

Ltjcio. Our doubts are traitors, 

And make us lose the good we oft might win, 
By fearing to attempt : Go to lord Angelo, 
Aid let him learn to know, when maidens sue, 
Men give like gods ; but when they weep and 

kneel, 
All their petitions are as freely theirs 
As they themselves would owe them.- 

Isab. I'll see what I can do. 

Ltjcio. But, speedily. 

Isab. I will about it straight ; 
N longer staying but to give the mother 
Notice of my affair. I humbly thank you : 
Commend me to my brother : soon at night 
I'll send him certain word of my success. 

Ltjcio. I take my leave of you. 

Isab. Good sir, adieu. 

MEASURE FOR MEASURE, A. 1, S. 5. 



GOD HELPS WHERE PURE AFFEC- 
TION EXISTS. 

Miranda. Alack ! what trouble 

Was I then to you ! 

Prospeeo. ! a cherubim 

Thou wast, that did preserve me! Thou didst 

smile, 
Infused with a fortitude from heaven, 
When I have deck'd the sea with drops full salt ; 
Under my burden groan' d ; which rais'd in me 
An undergoing stomach, to bear up 
Against what should ensue. 

TEMPEST, A. 1, S. 2. 



GOD'S IMAGE. 

What a piece of work is a man ! How noble 
in reason ! how infinite in faculties ! in form, and 
moving, how express and admirable ! in action, 
how like an angel ! in apprehension, how like a 
god ! the beauty of the world ! the paragon of 
animals ! 

HAMLET, A. 2, S. 2. 



GOOD DESERTED BRINGS 
DESPERATION. 

If thou speak' st false, 
Upon the next tree shalt thou hang alive, 
Till famine cling thee : if thy speech be sooth, 
I care not if thou dost for me as much. — 
I pull in resolution ; and begin 
To doubt the equivocation of the fiend, 
That lies like truth : Fear not, till Birnam wood 
Do come to Dunsinane ; — and now a wood 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 1 45 

Comes toward Dunsinane. — Arm, arm, and 

out! — 
If this, which he avouches, does appear, 
There is nor flying hence, nor tarrying here. 
I 'gin to be a-weary of the sun, 
And wish the estate o' the world were now 

undone. — 
Ring the alarum bell: — Blow, wind! come, wrack! 
At least we'll die with harness on our back. 

MACBETH, A. 5, S. 5. 



GOD WORKS WITH THOSE THAT 
WORK WITH HIM. 

Countess. Even so it was with me, when I 
was young : 

If we are nature's, these are ours ; this thorn 
Doth to our rose of youth rightly belong : 

Our blood to us, this to our blood is born ; 
It is the show and seal of nature's truth, 
Where love's strong passion is impress'd in youth : 
By our remembrances of days foregone, 
Such were our faults ; — or then we thought them 

none. 
Her eye is sick on't ; I observe her now. 

Helena. What is your pleasure, madam ? 

Count. You know, Helen, 

I am a mother to you. 

Hel. Mine honourable mistress. 

Count. Nay, a mother ; 

Why not a mother ? When I said, a mother, 
Methought you saw a serpent : What' s in mother, 
That you start at it ? I say, I am your mother ; 
And put you in the catalogue of those 
That were enwombed mine : 'Tis often seen 



146 the philosophy of 

Adoption strives with nature ; and choice breeds 
A native slip to us from foreign seeds : 
Tou ne'er oppress' d me with a mother's groan, 
Yet I express to you a mother's care : — 
G-od's mercy, maiden ! does it curd thy blood, 
To say, I am thy mother ? "What's the matter, 
That this distemper' d messenger of wet, 
The many-colour' d Iris, rounds thine eye ? 

"Why ? that you are my daughter ? 

Hel. That I am not. 

Count. I say, I am your mother. 
Hel. Pardon, madam ; 

The count Bousillon cannot be my brother : 
I am from humble, he from honour' d name ; 
No note upon my parents, his all noble : 
My master, my dear lord he is : and I 
His servant live, and will his vassal die : 
He must not be my brother. 

Count. Nor I your mother ? 

Hel. Tou are my mother, madam ; 'Would 

you were 
(So that my lord, your son, were not my brother,) 
Indeed, my mother! — or were you both our 

mothers, 
I care no more for, than I do for heaven, 
So I were not his sister : Can't no other, 
But, I your daughter, he must be my brother ? 
Count. Yes, Helen, you might be my 

daughter-in-law ; 
Grod shield, you mean it not! daughter, and 

mother, 
So strive upon your pulse : "What, pale again ? 
My fear hath catch' d your fondness : Now I see 
The mystery of your loneliness, and find 
Your salt tears' head. Now to all sense 'tis 

gross, 



WILLIAM SRAKUSFUABU. 147 

You love my son ; invention is asham'd, 

Against the proclamation of thy passion, 

To say, thou dost not : therefore tell me true ; 

But tell me then, 'tis so : — for, look, thy cheeks 

Confess it, one to the other ; and thine eyes 

See it so grossly shown in thy behaviours, 

That in their kind they speak it : only sin 

And hellish obstinacy tie thy tongue, 

That truth should be suspected : Speak, is't so ? 

If it be so, you have wound a goodly clue ; 

If it be not, forswear' t : howe'er, I charge thee, 

As heaven shall work in me for thine avail, 

To tell me truly. 

Hel. G-ood madam, pardon me. 

Count. Do you love my son ? 

Hel. Tour pardon, noble mistress ! 

Count. Love you my son ? 

Hel. Do not you love him, madam ? 

Count. Go not about ; my love hath in't a 
bond, 
"Whereof the world takes note: come, come, 

disclose 
The state of your affection ; for your passions 
Have to the full appeach'd. 

Hel. Then, I confess, 

Here on my knee, before high heaven and you, 
That before you, and next unto high heaven, 
I love your son : — 

My friends were poor, but honest ; so's my love : 
Be not offended ; for it hurts not him, 
That he is lov'd of me : I follow him not 
By any token of presumptuous suit ; 
Nor would I have him, till I do deserve him ; 
Tet never know how that desert should be. 
I know I love in vain, strive against hope ; 
Tet, in this captious and intenible sieve, 



148 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

I still pour in the waters of my love, 

And lack not to lose still : thus, Indian-like, 

Religious in mine error, I adore 

The sun, that looks upon his worshipper, 

But knows of him no more. My dearest 

madam, 
Let not your hate encounter with my love, 
For loving where you do : but, if yourself, 
"Whose aged honour cites a virtuous youth, 
Did ever, in so true a flame of liking, 
"Wish chastely, and love dearly, that your Dian 
"Was both herself and love ; then, give pity 
To her, whose state is such, that cannot choose 
But lend and give, where she is sure to lose ; 
That seeks not to find that her search implies, 
But, riddle-like, lives sweetly where she dies. 

Count. Had you not lately an intent, speak 
truly, 
To go to Paris ? 

Hel. Madam, I had. 

Count. "Wherefore ? tell true. 

Hel. I will tell truth; by grace itself, I 
swear. 
Tou know, my father left me some prescriptions 
Of rare and prov'd effects, such as his reading, 
And manifest experience, had collected 
For general sovereignty ; and that he will'd me 
In heedfullest reservation to bestow them, 
As notes, whose faculties inclusive were, 
More than they were in note: amongst the 

rest, 
There is a remedy, approv'd, set down, 
To cure the desperate languishes, whereof 
The king is render' d lost. 

Count. This was your motive 

For Paris, was it ? speak. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 1 49 

Hel. My lord your son made me to think 
of this ; 
Else Paris, and the medicine, and the king, 
Had, from the conversation of my thoughts, 
Haply, been absent then. 

Count. But think you, Helen, 

If you should tender your supposed aid, 
He would receive it ? He and his physicians 
Are of a mind ; he, that they cannot help him, 
They, that they cannot help: How shall they 

credit 
A poor unlearned virgin, when the schools, 
Embowell'd of their doctrine, have left off 
The danger to itself? 

Hel. There's something hints, 

More than my father's skill, which was the 

greatest 
Of his profession, that his good receipt 
Shall, for my legacy, be sanctified 
By the luckiest stars in heaven : and, would your 

honour 
But give me leave to try success, I'd venture 
The well-lost life of mine on his grace's cure, 
By such a day, and hour. 

Count. Dost thou believ't ? 

Hel. Ay, madam, knowingly. 

Count. Why, Helen, thou shalt have my 
leave, and love, 
Means, and attendants, and my loving greetings 
To those of mine in court ; I'll stay at home, 
And pray God's blessing into thy attempt : 
Be gone to-morrow ; and be sure of this, 
What I can help thee to, thou shalt not miss. 

all's well that ends well, a. 1, s. 3. 



150 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

GOOD AND EVIL IN NATUEE. 

The grey-ey'd morn smiles on the frowning 

night, 
Checkering the eastern clouds with streaks of 

light; 
And necked darkness like a drunkard reels, 
Prom forth day's pathway, made by Titan's 

wheels : 
Now ere the sun advance his burning eye, 
The day to cheer, and night's dank dew to dry, 
I must up-fill this osier cage of ours, 
With baleful weeds, and precious-juiced flowers. 
The earth, that's nature's mother, is her tomb ; 
What is her burying grave, that is her womb : 
And from her womb children of divers kind 
We sucking on her natural bosom find ; 
Many for many virtues excellent, 
None but for some, and yet all different. 
0, mickle is the powerful grace, that lies 
In herbs, plants, stones, and their true qualities : 
For nought so vile that on the earth doth live, 
But to the earth some special good doth give ; 
Nor aught so good, but, strain' d from that fair use, 
Revolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse : 
Virtue itself, turns vice, being misapplied ; 
And vice sometime' s by action dignified. 
Within the infant rind of this small flower 
Poison hath residence, and med'cine power : 
For this, being smelt, with its odour cheers each 

part; 
Being tasted, slays all senses with the heart. 
Two such opposed foes encamp them still 
In man as well as herbs, grace, and rude will ; 
And, where the worser is predominant, 
Full soon the canker death eats up that plant. 

ltOMEO AND JULIET, A. 2, S. 3. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 1 5 1 

GOOD BY NATUEE. 

A most incomparable man ; breath' d, as it were, 
To an untirable and continuate goodness. 

TIMON OF ATHENS, A. 1, S. 1. 



GOOD, IF TENDERED IN LOVE. 

O, sib, yon are old ; 
Nature in you stands on the very verge 
Of her confine : you should be rul'd, and led 
By some discretion, that discerns your state 
Better than you yourself, 

KING LEAR, A. 2, S. 4. 



GOOD MEN IN POWER REQUIRE THE 
SYMPATHY OF THEIR FRIENDS. 

How chance, thou art not with the prince thy 

brother ? 
He loves thee, and thou dost neglect him, Thomas; 
Thou hast a better place in his affection, 
Than all thy brothers : cherish it, my boy ; 
And noble offices thou may'st effect 
Of mediation, after I am dead, 
Between his greatness and thy other brethren : — 
Therefore, omit him not ; blunt not his love : 
Nor lose the good advantage of his grace, 
By seeming cold, or careless of his will. 
For he is gracious, if he be observ'd ; 
He hath a tear for pity, and a hand 
Open as day for melting charity : 
Yet notwithstanding, being incens'd, he's flint; 
As humorous as winter, and as sudden 



152 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

As flaws congealed in the spring of day. 
His temper, therefore, must be well observ'd : 
Chide him for faults, and do it reverently, 
When you perceive his blood inclined to mirth : 
But, being moody, give him line and scope ; 
Till that his passions, like a whale on ground, 
Confound themselves with working. Learn this, 

Thomas, 
And thou shalt prove a shelter to thy friends ; 
A hoop of gold, to bind thy brothers in ; 
That the united vessel of their blood* 
Mingled with venom of suggestion, 
(As, force perforce, the age will pour it in,) 
Shall never leak, though it do work as strong 
As aconitum, or rash gunpowder. 

K. HENRY IV., PART II., A. 4, S. 4. 



GOOD WILL SOMETIMES SUFFER 

UNDESERVEDLY. 

Whither should I fly ? 
I have done no harm. But I remember now 
I am in this earthly world ; where, to do harm. 
Is often laudable ; to do good, sometime, 
Accounted dangerous folly : Why then, alas ! 
Do I put up that womanly defence, 
To say, I have done no harm ? 

MACBETH, A. 4, S. 2. 



GRANDEUR IN DEATH OF ROME 
AND EGYPT. 

Cleopatra. O thou sun, 

Burn the great sphere thou mov'st in ! — darkling 
stand 



WILLIAM SHAKESPLJARU. 1 5 3 

The varying shore o'the world ! — O Antony ! 
Antony, Antony ! — Charmian, help; help, Iras; 
Help, friends below ; let's draw him hither. 

Antony. Peace : 

Not Ccesar's valour hath o'erthrown Antony, 
But Antony's hath triumphed on itself. 

Cleo. So it should be, that none but Antony 
Should conquer Antony ; but woe 'tis so ! 

Ant. I am dying, Egypt, dying ; only 
I here importune death a while, until 
Of many thousand kisses the poor last 
I lay upon thy lips — 

Cleo. I dare not, dear, 

(Dear my lord, pardon,) I dare not, 
Lest I be taken : not the imperious show 
Of the full-fortuned Ccesar ever shall 
Be brooch' d with me ; if knife, drugs, serpents, 

have 
Edge, sting, or operation, I am safe : 
Tour wife Octavia, with her modest eyes, 
And still conclusion, shall acquire no honour 
Demurring upon me. — But come, come, Antony, — 
Help me, my women, — we must draw thee up ; — 
Assist, good friends. 

Ant. O, quick, or I am gone. 

Cleo. Here's sport, indeed! — How heavy 
weighs my lord ! 
Our strength is all gone into heaviness, 
That makes the weight: Had I great Juno's 

power, 
The strong-wing'd Mercury should fetch thee 

up, 
And set thee by Jove's side. Tet come a 

little,— 
Wishers were ever fools ; — 0, come, come, 
come; 



1 54 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

And welcome, welcome! die, where thou hast 

. liv ' d: . 
Quicken with kissing ; had my lips that power, 

Thus would I wear them out. 

Ant. I am dying, Egypt, dying : 
Give me some wine, and let me speak a little. 

Cleo. No, let me speak ; and let me rail so 
high, 
That the false housewife Fortune break her 

wheel, 
Provok'd by my offence. 

Ant. One word, sweet queen : 

Of Ccesar seek your honour, with your safety. — ! 

Cleo. They do not go together. 

Ant. Gentle, hear me ; 

None about Ccesar trust, but Proculeius. 

Cleo. My resolution, and my hands, I'll trust; 
None about Ccesar. 

Ant. The miserable change now at my end, 
Lament nor sorrow at : but please your thoughts, 
In feeding them with those my former fortunes, 
Wherein I liv'd, the greatest prince o'the 

world, 
The noblest : and do now not basely die, 
Nor cowardly ; put off my helmet to 
My countryman, a Roman, by a Roman 
Valiantly vanquish' d. Now, my spirit is going ; 
I can no more. [Dies. 

Cleo. Noblest of men, woo't die ? 

Hast thou no care of me ? shall I abide 
In this dull world, which in thy absence is 
No better than a stye ? — O, see my women, 
The crown o'the earth doth melt : — My lord ! — 
O, wither' d is the garland of the war, 
The soldier's pole is fallen; young boys, and 
girls, 



WILLIAM SHAXESFEABE. i 5 5 

Are level now with men : the odds is gone, 

And there is nothing left remarkable 

Beneath the visiting moon. \_S Tie faints. 

Chaemiais". madam, madam, madam ! 
Koyal Egypt's Empress ! 

Cleo. JSTo more, but e'en a woman; and 

commanded 
By such poor passion as the maid that milks, 
Arid does the meanest chares. — It were for me 
To throw my sceptre at the injurious gods ; 
To tell them, that this world did equal theirs, 
Till they had stolen our jewel. All's but 

nought ; 
Patience is sottish ; and impatience does 
Become a dog that's mad : Then is it sin, 
To rush into the secret house of death, 
Ere death dare come to us? — How do you, 

women ? 
What, what ? good cheer ! Why, how now, 

Charmian ? 
My noble girls ! — Ah, women, women ! look, 
Our lamp is spent, it's out:— Good sirs, take 

heart : — 
We'll bury him : and then, what's brave, what's 

noble, 
Let's do it after the high Soman fashion, 
And make death proud to take us. Come, 

away; 
This case of that huge spirit now is cold. 
Ah, women, women ! come ; we have no friend 
But resolution, and the briefest end. 

ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA, A. 4, S. 13. 



i s6 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

GREAT MEN NEVER DIE. 
Edward. Sweet duke of York, our prop to 

lean upon ; 
Now thou art gone, we have no staff, no stay ! — 
O Clifford, boist'rous Clifford, thou hast slain 
The flower of Europe for his chivalry ; 
And treacherously hast thou vanquish' d him, 
For, hand to hand, he would have vanquish' d 

thee !— 
Now my soul's palace is become a prison : 
Ah, would she break from hence ! that this my 

body 
Might in the ground be closed up in rest : 
For never henceforth shall I joy again, 
Never, O never, shall I see more joy. 

Richard. I cannot weep ; for all my body's 

moisture 
Scarce serves to quench my furnace-burning 

heart : 
Nor can my tongue unload my heart's great 

burden ; 
For self-same wind, that I should speak withal, 
Is kindling coals, that fire all my breast, 
And burn me up with flames, that tears would 

quench. 
To weep, is to make less the depth of grief : 
Tears, then, for babes ; blows, and revenge for 

me! — 
Richard, I bear thy name, I'll venge thy death, 
Or die renowned by attempting it. 

Edw. His name that valiant duke hath left 

with thee ; 
His dukedom and his chair with me is left. 
Rich. Nay, if thou be that princely eagle's 

bird, 
Show thy descent by gazing 'gainst the sun : 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 1 57 

For chair and dukedom, throne and kingdom 

say; 
Either that is thine, or else thou wert not his. 

K. HENRY VI., PART III., A. 2, S. 1. 



GEEATNESS FOBGETFUL OF ITSELF. 

Sometimes, when he is not Antony, 
He comes too short of that great property 
Which still should go with Antony. 

ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA, A. 1,8. 1. 



GEEATNESS OF SOUL. 

"Why then, will I no more : — 
Thou art, great lord, my father's sister's son, 
A cousin-german to great Priam's seed ; 
The obligation of our blood forbids 
A gory emulation 'twixt us twain : 
"Were thy commixtion Greek and Trojan so, 
That thou could'st say — This hand is Grecian all, 
And this is Trojan ; the sinews of this leg 
All Greek, and this all Troy ; my mother's blood 
Puns on the dexter cheek, and this sinister 
Bounds-in my father's ; by Jove multipotent, 
Thou should' st not bear from me a Greekish 

member 
Wherein my sword had not impressure made 
Of our rank feud : But the just gods gainsay, 
That any drop thou borrow' st from thy mother, 
My sacred aunt, should by my mortal sword 
Be drain' d ! Let me embrace thee, Ajax : 
By him that thunders, thou hast lusty arms ; 
Sector would have them fall upon him thus : 
Cousin, all honour to thee. 

TROILUS AND CRESSIDA, A. 4, S. 5. 



i s 8 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

GRIEF AND CONSOLATION. 

Gtiye the gods a thankful sacrifice. "When it 
pleaseth their deities to take the wife of a man 
from him, it shows to man the tailors of the 
earth ; comforting therein, that when old robes 
are worn out, there are members to make new. 
If there were no more women but Fulvia, then 
had you indeed a cut, and the case to be lamented; 
this grief is crowned with consolation ; your old 
smock brings forth a new petticoat: — and, in- 
deed, the tears live in an onion, that should 
water this sorrow. 

ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA, A. 1, S. 2. 



GRIEF IN PARTING ADDED TO BY 
PRESENTIMENT OF MISFORTUNE. 

Btjsht. Madam, your majesty is too much 

sad : 
You promis'd, when you parted with the king, 
To lay aside life-harming heaviness, 
And entertain a cheerful disposition. 

Qtteee". To please the king, I did ; to please 

myself, 
I cannot do it ; yet I know no cause 
"Why I should welcome such a guest as grief, 
Save bidding farewell to so sweet a guest 
As my sweet Richard : Yet, again, methinks, 
Some unborn sorrow, ripe in fortune's womb, 
Is coming towards me ; and my inward soul 
With nothing trembles : at something it grieves, 
More than with parting from my lord the king. 
Bushy. Each substance of a grief hath 

twenty shadows, 
Which show like grief itself, but are not so : 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 1 59 

For sorrow's eye, glaz'd with blinding tears, 
Divides one thing entire to many objects ; 
Like perspectives, which, rightly gaz'd upon, 
Show nothing but confusion ; ey'd awry, 
Distinguish form : so your sweet majesty, 
Looking awry upon your lord's departure, 
Finds shapes of griefs, more than himself, to wail; 
Which, look'd on as it is, is nought but shadows 
Of what it is not. Then, thrice-gracious queen, 
More than your lord's departure weep not; 

more's not seen : 
Or if it be, 'tis with false sorrow's eye, 
"Which, for things true, weeps things imaginary. 
Queen. It may be so ; but yet my inward 

soul 
Persuades me, it is otherwise : Howe'er it be, 
I cannot but be sad ; so heavy sad, 
As — though, in thinking, on no thought I think — 
Makes me with heavy nothing faint and shrink. 
Bushy. "lis nothing but conceit, my gracious 

lady. 
Queen. 'Tis nothing less: conceit is still 

deriv'd 
From some fore-father grief; mine is not so ; 
For nothing hath begot my something grief; 
Or something hath the nothing that I grieve ; 
'Tis in reversion that I do possess ; 
But what it is, that is not yet known ; what 
I cannot name ; 'tis nameless woe, I wot. 

K. RICHARD II, A. 2, S. 2, 



GRIEF UTTERED A SAFETY-VALVE 
TO THE HEART. 

Duchess. Why should calamity he full of 
words ? 



160 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Q. Elizabeth. Windy attornies to their 

client woes, 
Airy succeeders of intestate joys, 
Poor breathing orators of miseries ! 
Let them have scope: though what they do 

impart 
Help nothing else, yet do they ease the heart. 
Duch. If so, then be not tongue-ty'd: go 

with me, 
And in the breath of bitter words let's smother 
My damned son, that thy two sweet sons 

smother'd. 

K. RICHARD III., A. 4, S. 4. 



GEOWTH OF IMAGINATION. 

Our poesy is as a gum, which oozes 
Erom whence 'tis nourish'd: The fire i'the flint 
Shows not, till it be struck ; our gentle flame 
Provokes itself, and, like the current, flies 
Each bound it chafes. 

TIMON OF ATHENS, A. 1, S. 1. 



HAPPILY BEGOTTEN. 

Come hither, England's hope : If secret powers 
Suggest but truth to my divining thoughts, 
This pretty lad will prove our country's bliss. 
His looks are full of peaceful majesty ; 
His head by nature fram'd to wear a crown, 
His hand to wield a scepter ; and himself 
Likely, in time, to bless a regal throne. 
Make much of him, my lords ; for this is he 
Must help you more than you are hurt by me. 

K. HENRY VI., PART III., A. 4, S. 6. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPJEABE. 1 6 1 

HAPPINESS IN EMPLOYMENT. 

What is a man, 
If his chief good, and market of his time, 
Be but to sleep and feed ? a beast, no more. 
Sure, he, that made us with such large discourse, 
Looking before, and after, gave us not 
That capability and godlike reason 
To rust in us unus'd. 

HAMLET, A. 4, S. 4. 



HARD AND SOFT. 

Leak. O me, my heart, my rising heart ! — 
but, down. 

Pool. Cry to it, nuncle, as the cockney did 
to the eels, when she put them i'the paste alive ; 
she rapp'd 'em o'the coxcombs with a stick, and 
cry'd, Down, wantons, down. 

KING LEAR, A. 2, S. 4. 



HASTINESS. 

Enough of this : it came in too suddenly ; let 
it die as it was born. 

CYMBELINE, A. 1, S. 5, 



HE WAS TOO NOBLE FOR THEM. 

Bemembeb, March, the ides of March remember! 
Did not great Julius bleed for justice' sake ? 
What villain touch' d his body, that did stab, 
And not for justice ? What, shall one of us, 
That struck the foremost man of all this world, 
But for supporting robbers ; shall we now 
Contaminate our fingers with base bribes ? 

M 



1 62 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

And sell the mighty space of our large honours, 
For so much trash, as may be grasped thus ? — 
I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon, 
Than such a Soman. 

JULIUS CESAR, A. 4, S. 3. 



HEART STEADY— BRAIN COOL- 
NERVES FIRM. 

Stat, my lord, 
And let your reason with your choler question 
What 'tis you go about : To climb steep hills, 
Requires slow pace at first : Anger is like 
A full-hot horse ; who being allow' d his way, 
Self-mettle tires him. Not a man in England 
Can advise me like you : be to yourself 
As you would to your friend. 

Be advis'd: 
Heat not a furnace for your foe so hot 
That it do singe yourself: We may outrun, 
By violent swiftness, that which we run at, 
And lose by over-running. Know you not, 
The fire, that mounts the liquor till it run o'er, 
In seeming to augment it, wastes it ? Be advis'd: 
I say again, there is no English soul 
More stronger to direct you than yourself; 
If with the sap of reason you would quench, 
Or but allay, the fire of passion. 

K. HENRY VIII., A. 1, S. 1. 



HEAVEN AND EARTH. 

Be shrew me, but I love her heartily : 
For she is wise, if I can judge of her ; 
And fair she is, if that mine eyes be true ; 



WILLIAM 8RAKJESFEABE. 1 63 

And true she is, as she hath prov'd herself; 
And therefore, like herself, wise, fair, and true, 
Shall she be placed in my constant soul. 

MERCHANT OF VENICE, A. 2, S. 6. 



HEAVEN BEFOEE EARTH. 

I held it ever, 
Virtue and knowledge were endowments greater 
Than nobleness and riches : careless heirs 
May the two latter darken and expend ; 
But immortality attends the former, 
Making a man a god. 'Tis known, I ever 
Have studied physick, through which secret art, 
By turning o'er authorities, I have 
(Together with my practice,) made familiar 
To me and to my aid, the blest infusions 
That dwell in vegetives, in metals, stones ; 
And I can speak of the disturbances 
That nature works, and of her cures; which 

gives me 
A more content in course of true delight 
Than to be thirsty after tottering honour, 
Or tie my treasure up in silken bags, 
To please the fool and death. 

CYMBELINE, A. 3, S. 2. 



HEAVEN PUNISHES WHERE THE 
LAW FAILS. 

No, no, my Escanes; know this of me, — 
Antiochus from incest liv'd not free ; 
For which, the most high gods not minding 
longer 



164 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

To withhold the vengeance that they had in store, 

Due to this heinous capital offence ; 

Even in the height and pride of all his glory, 

When he was seated, and his daughter with him, 

In a chariot of inestimable value, 

A fire from heaven came, and shrivelTd up 

Their bodies, even to loathing ; for they so stunk, 

That all those eyes ador'd them ere their fall, 

Scorn now their hand should give them burial. 

'Twas very strange. And yet but just; for 

though 
This king were great, his greatness was no guard 
To bar heaven's shaft, but sin had his reward. 

PERICLES, A. 2, S. 4. 



HEAVEN OPERATING ON MAN. 

Horatio. He waxes desperate with imagina- 
tion. 

Marcellus. Let's follow ; 'tis not fit thus 
to obey him. 

Hob. Have after: — To what issue will this 
come? 

Mar. Something is rotten in the state of 
Denmark. 

Hor. Heaven will direct it* 

HAMLET, A. 1, S. 4. 



HEAVEN WEEPS WHERE CRIME 

ABOUNDS. 

Bigot. Who kill'd this prince ? 

Hubert. 'Tis not an hour since I left him 
well: 
I honour' d him, I lov'd him ; and will weep 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 1 65 

My date of life out, for his sweet life's loss. 

Salisbury. Trust not those cunning waters 
of his eyes, 
For villainy is not without such rheum ; 
And he, long traded in it, makes it seem 
Like rivers of remorse and innocency. 
Away, with me, all you whose souls abhor 
The uncleanly savours of a slaughter-house ; 
For I am stifled with this smell of sin. 

Bio. Away, toward Bury, to the Dauphin 
there. 

Pembeoke. There, tell the king, he may 
inquire us out. 

[Exeunt Lords. 

Bastard. Here's a good world ! — Knew you 
of this fair work ? 
Beyond the infinite and boundless reach 
Of mercy, if thou didst this deed of death, 
Art thou damn'd, Hubert. 

Hub. Do but hear me, sir. 

Bast. Ha! I'll tell thee what 5 
Thou art damn'd as black — nay, nothing is so 

black ; 
Thou art more deep damn'd than prince Lucifer : 
There is not yet so ugly a fiend of hell 
As thou shalt be, if thou didst kill this child. 

Hub. Upon my soul, 

Bast. If thou didst but consent 

To this most cruel act, do but despair, 
And, if thou want'st a chord, the smallest thread 
That ever spider twisted from her womb 
Will serve to strangle thee ; a rush will be 
A 'beam to hang thee on; or would' st thou 

drown thyself, 
Put but a little water in a spoon, 
And it shall be as all the ocean, 



1 66 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Enough to stifle such a villain up. 

I do suspect thee very grievously. 

Hub. If I in act, consent, or sin of thought 
Be guilty of the stealing that sweet breath 
"Which was embounded in this beauteous clay, 
Let hell want pains enough to torture me ! 
I left him well. 

Bast. Go, bear him in thine arms. — 

I am amaz'd, methinks ; and lose my way 
Among the thorns and dangers of this world. — 
How easy dost thou take all England up ! 
From forth this morsel of dead royalty, 
The life, the right, and truth of all this realm 
Is fled to heaven ; and England now is left 
To tug and scramble, and to part by the teeth 
The unowed interest of proud-swelling state. 
Now, for the bare-pick' d bone of majesty, 
Doth dogged war bristle his angry crest, 
And snarleth in the gentle eyes of peace : 
Now powers from home, and discontents at home, 
Meet in one line ; and vast confusion waits 
(As doth a raven on a sick-fallen beast,) 
The eminent decay of wrested pomp. 
Now happy he, whose cloak and cincture can 
Hold out this tempest. Bear away that child, 
And follow me with speed ; I'll to the king : 
A thousand businesses are brief in hand, 
And heaven itself doth frown upon the land. 

KING JOHN, A. 4, S. 3. 



HELL UPON EARTH OF CIVIL WAR. 

Q. Margaeet. "What ! were you snarling 
all, before I came, 
Ready to catch each other by the throat, 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 1 67 

And turn you all your hatred now on me ? 
Did York's dread curse prevail so much with 

heaven, 
That Henry's death, my lovely Edward's death, 
Their kingdom's loss, my woful banishment, 
Could all but answer for that peevish brat ? 
Can curses pierce the clouds, and enter heaven? — 
Why, then give way, dull clouds, to my quick 

curses ! 

Though not by war, by surfeit die your king ! 
As ours by murder, to make him a king ! 
Edward, thy son, that now is prince of Wales, 
For Edivard, my son, that was prince of Wales, 
Die in his youth, by like untimely violence ! 
Thyself a queen, for me that was a queen, 
Outlive thy glory, like my wretched self! 
Long may'st thou live, to wail thy children's loss; 
And see another, as I see thee now, 
Deck'd in thy rights, as thou art stall' d in mine ! 
Long die thy happy days before thy death ; 
And, after many lengthen' d hours of grief, 
Die neither mother, wife, nor England's queen ! — 
Elvers, — and Dorset, — you were standers by, — 
And so wast thou, lord Hastings, — when my son 
"Was stabb'd with bloody daggers : God, I pray 

him, 
That none of you may live your natural age, 
But by some unlook'd accident cut off! 

GtLOSter. Have done thy charm, thou hateful 

wither' d hag. 
Q. Mar. And leave out thee ? stay, dog, for 

thou shalt hear me. 
If heaven have any grievous plague in store, 
Exceeding those that I can wish upon thee, 
0, let them keep it, till thy sins be ripe, 
And then hurl down their indignation 



1 68 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

On thee, the troubler of the poor world's peace! 
The worm of conscience still be-gnaw thy soul ! 
Thy friends suspect for traitors while thou liv'st, 
And take deep traitors for thy dearest friends ! 
No sleep close up that deadly eye of thine, 
Unless it be while some tormenting dream 
Affrights thee with a hell of ugly devils ! 
Thou elvish-mark' d, abortive, rooting hog! 
Thou that wast seal'd in thy nativity 
The slave of nature, and the son of hell ! 
Thou slander of thy mother's heavy womb ! 
Thou loathed issue of thy father's loins ! 
Thou rag of honour! thou detested Pichard! 

K. RICHARD III., A. 1, S. 3. 



HEROES ARE LEAST SO WHEN AT 
HOME; OR, THE FAREWELL OF 
LOVE AND FORTITUDE. 

Come, leave your tears ; a brief farewell : — the 

beast 
With many heads butts me away. — Nay, mother, 
Where is your ancient courage ? you were us'd 
To say, extremity was the trier of spirits ; 
That common chances common men could bear ; 
That, when the sea was calm, all boats alike 
Show'd mastership in floating : fortune's blows, 
When most struck home, being gentle wounded, 

craves 
A noble cunning : you were us'd to load me 
With precepts, that would make invincible 
The heart that conn'd them. Nay, mother, 
Resume that spirit, when you were wont to say, 
If you had been the wife of Hercules, 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 169 

Six of his labours you'd have done, and sav'd 
Tour husband so much sweat. — Cominius, 
Droop not ; adieu : — Farewell, my wife ! my 

mother ! 
I'll do well yet. — Thou old and true Menenius, 
Thy tears are Salter than a younger man's, 
And venomous to thine eyes. — My sometime 

general, 
I have seen thee stern, and thou hast oft beheld 
Heart-hard' ning spectacles ; tell these sad women, 
'Tis fond to wail inevitable strokes, 
As 'tis to laugh at them. — My mother, you wot 

well, 
My hazards still have been your solace : and 
Believe't not lightly, (though I go alone, 
Like to a lonely dragon, that his fen 
Makes fear'd, and talk'd of more than seen,) 

your son 
"Will, or exceed the common, or be caught 
With insiduous baits and practice. 

Fare ye well, Cominius : 
Thou hast years upon thee ; and thou art too full 
Of the wars' surfeits, to go rove with one 
That's yet unbruis'd : bring me but out at gate. — 
Come, my sweet wife, my dearest mother, and 
My friends of noble touch, when I am forth, 
Bid me farewell, and smile. I pray you, come. 
While I remain above the ground, you shall 
Hear from me still ; and never of me aught 
But what is like me formerly. 

CORIOLANUS, A. 4, S. 1. 



HEROES NOT ALWAYS STATESMEN. 

Coriolanus. Now, as I live, I will. — My 
nobler friends, 



1 70 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

I crave their pardons : — 

For the mutable, rant-scented many, let them 

Eegard me as I do not flatter, and 

Therein behold themselves : I say again, 

In soothing them, we nourish 'gainst our senate 

The cockle of rebellion, insolence, sedition, 

Which we ourselves have ploughed for, sow'd 

and scatter' d, 
By mingling them with us, the honour'd number; 
Who lack not virtue, no, nor power, but that 
Which they have given to beggars. 

Senatoe. No more words, we beseech you. 

Coe. How ! no more ? 

As for my country I have shed my blood, 
Not fearing outward force, so shall my lungs 
Coin words till their decay, against those lepers 
Which we disdain should tetter us, yet sought 
The very way to catch them. 

Beutus. Tou speak o' the people, 

As if you were a god to punish, not 
A man of their infirmity. 

CORIOLANUS, A. 3, S. 1. 



HEROIC SYMPATHY. 

Hotspue. 0, Harry, thou hast robbed me 

of my youth : 
I better brook the loss of brittle life, 
Than those proud titles thou hast won of me 5 
They wound my thoughts, worse than thy sword 

my flesh : 

But thought's the slave of life, and life time's 

fool; 
And time, that takes survey of all the world, 
Must have a stop. O, I could prophesy, 



WILLIAM SHAKESPUABU. 1 7 1 

But that the earthly and cold hand of death 
Lies on my tongue : — No, Percy, thou art dust, 

And food for [Dies. 

P. Henet. For worms, brave Percy : Tare 

thee well, great heart ! — 
IH-weav'd ambition, how much art thou shrunk! 
"When that this body did contain a spirit, 
A kingdom for it was too small a bound ; 
But now, two paces of the vilest earth 
Is room enough : — This earth, that bears thee 

dead, 
Bears not alive so stout a gentleman. 
If thou wert sensible of courtesy, 
I should not make so dear a show of zeal : — 
But let my favours hide thy mangled face ; 
And, even in thy behalf, I'll thank myself 
For doing these fair rites of tenderness. 
Adieu, and take thy praise with thee to heaven ! 
Thy ignominy sleep with thee in the grave, 
But not remember' d in thy epitaph ! 

K. HENRY IV., PART I., A. 5, S. 4. 



HEKOISM. 

I no beseech you, 
By all the battles wherein we have fought, 
By the blood we have shed together, by the vows 
We have made to endure friends, that you directly 
Set me against Aufidius, and his Antiates : 
And that you not delay the present ; but, 
Pilling the air with swords advanc'd, and darts, 
We prove this very hour. 

CORIOLANUS, A. 1, S. 6. 



1 72 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

HIGH BREEDING. 

Youth, thou bear'st thy father's face ; 
Frank nature, rather curious than in haste, 
Hath well compos' d thee. Thy father's moral 

parts 
May'st thou inherit too ! "Welcome to Paris. 
I would I had that corporal soundness now, 
As when thy father, and myself, in friendship 
First try'd our soldiership ! He did look far 
Into the service of the time, and was 
Discipled of the bravest : he lasted long ; 
But on us both did haggish age steal on, 
And wore us out of act. It much repairs me 
To talk of your good father : In his youth 
He had the wit, which I can well observe 
To-day in our young lords ; but they may jest, 
Till their own scorn return to them unnoted, 
Ere they can hide their levity in honour. 
So like a courtier, contempt nor bitterness 
Were in his pride or sharpness ; if they were, 
His equal had awak'd them ; and his honour, 
Clock to itself, knew the true minute when 
Exception bid him speak, and, at this time, 
His tongue obey'd his hand: who were below 

him 
He us'd as creatures of another place ; 
And bow'd his eminent top to their low ranks, 
Making them proud of his humility, 
In their poor praise he humbled : Such a man 
Might be a copy to these younger times ; 
Which, follow' d well, would demonstrate them 

now, 
But goers backward. 

all's well that ends well, a. 1, s. 2. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 173 

HIGH-SOULED FEELINGS MASTER- 
ING PHYSICAL INFIRMITY. 

Foe this I shall have time enough to mourn. 
In poison there is physick ; and these news, 
Having been well, that would have made me 

sick, 
Being sick, have in some measure made me well: 
And as the wretch, whose fever- weakened joints, 
Like strengthless hinges, buckle under life, 
Impatient of his fit, breaks like a fire 
Out of his keeper's arms ; even so my limbs, 
Weaken' d with grief, being now enrag'd with 

grief, 
Are thrice themselves: hence therefore, thou 

nice crutch ; 
A scaly gauntlet now, with joints of steel, 
Must glove this hand : and hence, thou sickly 

quoif ; 
Thou art a guard too wanton for the head, 
Which princes, flesh'd with conquest, aim to hit. 
Now bind my brows with iron ; And approach 
The ragged' st hour that time and spite dare bring, 
To frown upon the enrag'd Norihwmberland ! 
Let heav'n kiss earth ! Now let not nature's 

hand 
Keep the wild flood confin'd ! let order die ! 
And let this world no longer be a stage, 
To feed contention in a lingering act ; 
But let one spirit of the first-born Cain 
Reign in all bosoms, that, each heart being set 
On bloody courses, the rude scene may end, 
And darkness be the burier of the dead ! 

K. HENRY IV., PART II., A. 1, S. 1. 



174 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

HIGH AND LOW. 

Coriolantts. On fair ground, 

I could beat forty of them. 

Menekttts. I could myself 

Take up a brace of the best of them ; yea, the 
two tribunes. 

Comhsts. But now 'tis odds beyond arith- 
metick ; 
And manhood is call'd foolery, when it stands 
Against a falling fabrick. — Will you hence, 
Before the tag return ? whose rage doth rend 
Like interrupted waters, and o'erbear 
What they are used to bear. 

Mem". Pray you, be gone : 

I'll try whether my old wit be in request 
With those that have but little ; this must be 

patch'd 
With cloth of any colour. 

CORIOLANUS, A. 3, S. 1. 



HOME AFFECTIONS. 

If at home, sir, 
He^s all my exercise, my mirth, my matter : 
Now my sworn friend, and then mine enemy ; 
My parasite, my soldier, statesman, all : 
He makes a July's day short as December ; 
And, with his varying childness, cures in me 
Thoughts that would thick my blood. 

winter's tale, a. 1, s. 2. 



HOME-KEEPING YOUTHS HAVE 
EVER HOMELY WITS. 

Antonio. Tell me, PmtJimo, what sad talk 
was that, 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 175 

Wherewith my brother held you in the cloister ? 

Pa^thiko. 'Twas of his nephew Proteus, 
your son. 

Ant. "Why, what of him ? 

Pan. He wonder' d, that your lordship 

Would suffer him to spend his youth at home ; 
While other men, of slender reputation, 
Put forth their sons to seek preferment out : 
Some, to the wars, to try their fortune there ; 
Some, to discover islands far away ; 
Some, to the studious universities. 
For any, or for all these exercises, 
He said, that Proteus, your son, was meet : 
And did request me, to importune you, 
To let him spend his time no more at home, 
Which would be great impeachment to his age, 
In having known no travel in his youth. 

Aft. Nor need'st thou much importune me 
to that 
Whereon this month I have been hammering. 
I have consider' d well his loss of time ; 
And how he cannot be a perfect man, 
Not being try'd, and tutor' d in the world : 
Experience is by industry atchiev'd, 
And perfected by the swift course of time. * 

TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA, A. 1, S. 3. 



HONOUR IS FROM ABOVE 

Toue presence glads our days ; honour we 

love, 
For who hates honour, hates the gods above. 

PERICLES, A. 2, S. 3. 



176 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

HOPE OFT AFFORDS MORE PLEA- 
SURE THAN POSSESSION. 

"Who riseth from a feast, 
"With that keen appetite that he sits down ? 
Where is the horse that doth untread again 
His tedious measures with the unbated fire 
That he did pace them first ? All things that are, 
Are with more spirit chased than enjoy' d. 
How like a younker, or a prodigal, 
The scarfed bark puts from her native bay, 
Hugg'd and embraced by the strumpet wind! 
How like the prodigal doth she return ; 
With over- weather 'd ribs, and ragged sails, 
Lean, rent, and beggar' d by the strumpet wind ! 

MERCHANT OF VENICE, A. 2, S. 6. 



HORRORS OF CIVIL WAR. 

Look on thy country, look on fertile France, 

And see the cities and the towns defac'd 

By wasting ruin of the cruel foe ! 

As looks the mother on her lowly babe, 

When death doth close his tender dying eyes, 

See, see, the pining malady of France ; 

Behold the wounds, the most unnatural wounds, 

Which thou thyself hast given herwoful breast! 

O, turn thy edged sword another way ; 

Strike those that hurt, and hurt not those that 

help! 
One drop of blood, drawn from thy country's 

bosom, 
Should grieve thee more than streams of foreign 

gore ; 
Return thee, therefore, with a flood of tears, 
And wash away thy country's stained spots ! 

K. HENRY VI., PART I., A. 3, S. 3. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 177 

HORRORS OF FILIAL INGRATITUDE. 

Beloved, 
Thy sister's naught : O, she hath tied 
Sharp-tooth' d unkindness, like a vulture, here, — 
I can scarce speak to thee ; thou'lt not believe, 
Of how deprav'd a quality — ! 

KING LEAR, A. 2, S. 4. 



HUMAN INEQUALITIES. 

So, oft it chances in particular men, 

That for some vicious mole of nature in them, 

As, in their birth, (wherein they are not guilty, 

Since nature cannot choose his origin,) 

By the o'ergrowth of some complexion, 

Oft breaking down the pales and forts of reason ; 

Or by some habit, that too much o'erleavens 

The form of plausive manners ; — that these 

men, — 
Carrying, I say, the stamp of one defect ; 
Being nature's livery, or fortune's star, — 
Their virtues else (be they as pure as grace, 
As infinite as man may undergo,) 
Shall in the general censure take corruption 
From that particular fault : The dram of base 
Doth all the noble substance often doubt, 
To his own scandal. 

HAMLET, A. 1, S. 4. 



HOW TO SHAME THE EYIL SPIRIT. 

GtLEInhdower. I can call spirits from the 

vasty deep. 
Hot spur. Why, so can I; or so can any man: 
But will they come, when you do call for them ? 

N 



178 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

GtLekd. Why, I can teach you, cousin, to 

command 
The devil. 

Hot. And I can teach thee, coz, to shame 

the devil, 
By telling truth; Tell truth, and shame the 

devil. — 
If thou have power to raise him, bring him hither, 
And I'll be sworn, I have power to shame him 

hence. 
0, while you live, tell truth, and shame the devil. 

K. HENRY IV., PART I., A. 3, S. 1. 



HUMAN PARROTS. 

Content yourself: G-od knows, I lov'd my niece; 
And she is dead, slander' d to death by villains ; 
That dare as well answer a man, indeed, 
As I dare take a serpent by the tongue : 
Boys, apes, braggarts, Jacks, milksops ! — 
What, man ! I know them, yea, 
And what they weigh, even to the utmost scruple ; 
Scambling, out-facing, fashion-mong'ring boys, 
That lie, and cog, and flout, deprave and slander, 
Go antickly, and show outward hideousness, 
And speak off half a dozen dangerous words, 
How they might hurt their enemies, if they durst, 
And this is all. 

MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING, A. 5, S. 1. 



HUMAN VARIETIES. 

By two-headed Janus, 
Nature hath fram'd strange fellows in her time : 
Some that will evermore peep through their eyes 



WILLIAM SHAKESPJEABE. 179 

And laugh, like parrots, at a bag-piper : 
And other of such vinegar aspect, 
That they'll not show their teeth in way of smile, 
Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable. 

MERCHANT OF VENICE, A. 1, S. 1. 



HUMOROUS RECIPE FOR PRO- 
DUCING HUMILITY. 

Gtetimio. No, no ; forsooth, I dare not, for 
my life. 

Katharine. The more my wrong, the more 
his spite appears : 
"What, did he marry me to famish me ? 
Beggars, that come unto my father's door, 
Upon entreaty, have a present alms ; 
If not, elsewhere they meet with charity : 
But I, — who never knew how to entreat, — 
Nor never needed that I should entreat, 
Am starv'd for meat, giddy for lack of sleep ; 
"With oaths kept waking, and with brawling fed : 
And that which spites me more than all these 

wants, 
He does it under name of perfect love ; 
As who should say, — if I should sleep, or eat, 
'Twere deadly sickness, or else present death. — ■ 
I pr'ythee go, and get me some repast ; 
I care not what, so it be wholesome food. 

Gtbtt. "What say you to a neat's foot ? 

Kath. 'Tis passing good ; I pr'ythee let me 
have it. 

Gtetj. I fear, it is too cholerick a meat : — 
How say you to a fat tripe, finely broil' d ? 

Kath. I like it well ; good Cfrumio, fetch it 
me. 



1 80 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

GrETJ. I cannot tell ; I fear, 'tis cholerick. 
"What say you to a piece of beef, and mustard ? 
Kath. A dish that I do love to feed upon. 
Gteii. Ay, but the mustard is too hot a little. 
Kath. Why, then the beef, and let the 

mustard rest. 
Grim. Nay, then I will not ; you shall have 
the mustard, 
Or else you get no beef of Grumio. 

Kath. Then both, or one, or anything thou 

wilt. 
GrETJ. Why, then the mustard without the 

beef. 
Kath. Gro, get thee gone, thou false deluding 
slave, [Peats him. 

That feed'st me with the very name of meat : 
Sorrow on thee, and all the pack of you, 
That triumph thus upon my misery ! 
Go, get thee gone, I say. 

TAMING OF THE SHREW, A. 4, S. 3. 



HUSBAND'S LOVE. 

Mi queen ! my mistress ! 
0, lady, weep no more ; lest I give cause 
To be suspected of more tenderness 
Than doth become a man ! I will remain 
The loyal' st husband that did e'er plight troth. 
My residence in Pome, at one Philario's ; 
Who to my father was a friend, to me 
Known but by letter : thither write, my queen, 
And with mine eyes I'll drink the words you 

send, 
Though ink be made of gall. 

CYMBEL1NE, A. 1, S. 2. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 1 8 1 

HUSBAND'S REMORSE FOR UNJUST 
SUSPICION. 

0, thus she stood, 
Even with such life of majesty, (warm life, 
As now it coldly stands,) when first I woo'd her! 
I am asham'd : Does not the stone rebuke me, 
Eor being more stone than it ? — O, royal piece, 
There's magick in thy majesty ; which has 
My evils conjur'd to remembrance ; and 
From thy admiring daughter took the spirits, 
Standing like stone with thee ! 

winter's tale, a.. 5, s. 3. 



HYPOCRISY A BOTTLED SPIDER 

Poor painted queen, vain flourish of my fortune ! 
Why strew'st thou sugar on that bottled spider, 
"Whose deadly web ensnareth thee about ? 
Fool, fool ! thou whet'st a knife to kill thyself. 
The day will come, that thou shalt wish for me 
To help thee curse this pois'nous bunch-back' d 
toad. 

K. RICHARD III., A. 1, S. 3, 



HYPOCRISY AN EVIL IMPER- 
SONATED. 

A blessed labour, my most sovereign liege.- 

Among this princely heap, if any here, 

By false intelligence, or wrong surmise, 

Hold me a foe ; 

If I unwittingly, or in my rage, 

Have aught committed that is hardly borne 

By any in this presence, I desire 

To reconcile me to his friendly peace : 



"lis death to me, to be at enmity ; 
I hate it, and desire all good men's love. — 
First, madam, I entreat true peace of you, 
Which I will purchase with my duteous service; — 
Of you, my noble cousin Buckingham, 
If ever any grudge were lodg'd between us ; — 
Of you, lord Rivers, — and, lord Grey, of you, — 
That all without desert have frown' d on me ; — 
Dukes, earls, lords, gentlemen ; indeed, of all, 
I do not know that Englishman alive, 
"With whom my soul is any jot at odds, 
More than the infant that is born to-night ; 
I thank my Grod for my humility. 

K. RICHARD III., A. 2, S. 1. 



IDLERS OF TIME. 

A yeet little thief of occasion will rob you of 
a great deal of patience. 

CORIOLANUS, A. 2, S. 1. 



INNOCENCE OF CHILDHOOD. 

Hermione. Was not my lord the verier wag 

o'the two ? 
Polixekes. We were as twinn'd lambs, that 

did frisk i'the sun, 
And bleat the one at the other : What we 

chang'd 
Was innocence for innocence ; we knew not 
The doctrine of ill-doing, no, nor dream'd 
That any did : Had we pursued that life, 
And our weak spirits ne'er been higher rear'd 
With stronger blood, we should have answer' d 

heaven 



WILLIAM SHAKJESPUAEU. 183 

Boldly, Not guilty ; the imposition clear' d, 
Hereditary ours. 

Her. By tliis we gather, 

You have tripp'd since. 

Pol. O my most sacred lady, 

Temptations have since then been born to us: for 
In those unfledg'd days was my wife a girl ; 
Tour precious self had then not cross' d the eyes 
Of my young play-fellow. 

Her. Grace to boot ! 

Of this make no conclusion ; lest you say, 
Your queen and I are devils : Yet, go on ; 
The offences we have made you do, we'll answer ; 
If you first sinn'd with us, and that with us 
You did continue fault, and that you slipp'd not 
With any but with us. 

winter's tale, A. 1, S.2. 



JUDGMENT WAITS FOR 

REPENTANCE. 

Wisdom and goodness to the vile seem vile : 
Eilths savour but themselves. What have you 

done? 
Tigers, not daughters, what have you perform' d? 
A father, and a gracious aged man, 
Whose reverence the head-lugg'd bear would 

lick, 
Most barbarous, most degenerate ! have you 

madded. 
Could my good brother suffer you to do it ? 
A man, a prince, by him so benefited ? 
If that the heavens do not their visible spirits 
Send quickly down to tame these vile offences, 



1 84 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

'Twill come, 

Humanity must perforce prey on itself, 

Like monsters of the deep. 

KING LEAR, A. 4, S. 



INFIRMITIES OF CHARACTER 
SHOULD BE BORNE WITH. 

Moetimee. Fye, cousin Percy! how you 

cross my father ! 
Hotspub. I cannot choose: sometimes he 

angers me, 
"With telling me of the moldwarp and the ant, 
Of the dreamer Merlin, and his prophecies ; 
And of a dragon and a unless fish, 
A clip-wing' d griffin, and a moulten raven, 
A couching lion, and a ramping cat, 
And such a deal of skimble-skamble stufi^ 
As puts me from my faith. I tell you what, — 
He held me, but last night, at least nine hours, 
In reckoning up the several devils' names, 
That were his lackeys: I cried, humph, — and 

well, — go to, — 
But mark'd him not a word. 0, he's as tedious 
As is a tir'd horse, a railing wife ; 
Worse than a smoky house : — I had rather live 
With cheese and garlick, in a windmill, far, 
Than feed on cates, and have him talk to me, 
In any summer-house in Christendom. 

Moet. In faith, he is a worthy gentleman; 
Exceedingly well read, and profited 
In strange concealments ; valiant as a lion, 
And wondrous affable ; and as bountiful 
As mines of India. Shall I tell you, cousin ? 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 185 

He holds your temper in a high respect, 
And curbs himself even of his natural scope, 
"When you do cross his humour ; 'faith, he does ; 
I warrant you, that man is not alive, 
Might so have tempted him as you have done, 
"Without the taste of danger and reproof; 
But do not use it oft, let me entreat you. 

Worcester. In faith, my lord, you are too 

wilful-blame ; 
And since your coming hither, have done enough 
To put him quite beside his patience. 
Tou must needs learn, lord, to amend this fault : 
Though sometimes it show greatness, courage, 

blood, 
(And that's the dearest grace it renders you,) 
Yet oftentimes it doth present harsh rage, 
Defect of manners, want of government, 
Pride, haughtiness, opinion, and disdain : 
The least of which, haunting a nobleman, 
Loseth men's hearts ; and leaves behind a stain 
Upon the beauty of all parts besides, 
Beguiling them of commendation. 

Hot. Well, I am school'd ; good manners be 

your speed ! 
Here come our wives, and let us take our leave. 

K. HENRY IV., PART I., A. 3, S. 1. 



HEAVEN HATH A HAND IN THESE 

EVENTS. 

Duchess. My lord, you told me, you would 
tell the rest, 
When weeping made you break the story off 
Of our two cousins coming into London. 

York. Where did I leave ? 



1 86 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Duch. At that sad stop, my lord, 

"Where rude misgovern' d hands, from windows' 

tops, 
Threw dust and rubbish on king Pichard's head. 
York. Then, as I said, the duke, great 

Polingbroke, — 
Mounted upon a hot and fiery steed, 
Which his aspiring rider seem'd to know, — 
With slow, but stately pace, kept on his course, 
While all tongues cried — God save thee, Poling- 

broke ! 
You would have thought the very windows spake, 
So many greedy looks of young and old 
Through casements darted their desiring eyes 
Upon his visage ; and that all the walls, 
With painted imag'ry, had said at once, — 
Jesu preserve thee ! welcome, PolingbroJce ! 
Whilst he, from one side to the other turning, 
Bare-headed, lower than his proud steed's neck, 
Bespake them thus, — I thank you, countrymen : 
And thus still doing, thus he pass'd along. 
Duch. Alas, poor Richard ! where rides he 

the while ? 
York. As in a theatre, the eyes of men, 
After a well-grac'd actor leaves the stage, 
Are idly bent on him that enters next, 
Thinking his prattle to be tedious : 
Even so, or with much more contempt, men's 

eyes 
Did scowl on Pichard; no man cried, God save 

him ; 
No joyful tongue gave him his welcome home : 
But dust was thrown upon his sacred head ; 
Which with such gentle sorrow he shook off, — 
His face still combating with tears and smiles, 
The badges of his grief and patience, — 



WILLIA3I SHAKESPEARE. 1 87 

That had not Grod, for some strong purpose, 

steel' d 
The hearts of men, they must perforce have 

melted, 
And barbarism itself have pitied him. 
But heaven hath a hand in these events ; 
To whose high will we bound our calm contents. 
To Bolinghroke are we sworn subjects now, 
"Whose state and honour I for aye allow. 

K. RICHARD II., A. 5, S. 2. 



IMPRUDENCE. 

To wilful men, 
The injuries, that they themselves procure, 
Must be their schoolmasters. 

KING LEAR, A. 2, S. 4. 



IN CIVIL WAR NICE CALCULA- 
TIONS ARE REQUIRED. 

Yes, in this present quality of war ; — 
Indeed the instant action, (a cause on foot,) 
Lives so in hope, as in an early spring 
We see the appearing buds; which, to prove 

fruit, 
Hope gives not so much warrant, as despair, 
That frosts will bite them. When we mean to 

build, 
We first survey the plot, then draw the model ; 
And when we see the figure of the house, 
Then must we rate the cost of the erection : 
Which if we find outweighs ability, 
What do we then, but draw anew the model 



1 88 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

In fewer offices ; or, at least, desist 
To build at all ? Much more, in this great work, 
(Which is, almost, to pluck a kingdom down, 
And set another up,) should we survey 
The plot of situation, and the model ; 
Consent upon a sure foundation ; 
Question surveyors ; know our own estate, 
How able such a work to undergo, 
To weigh against his opposite ; or else, 
We fortify in paper, and in figures, 
Using the names of men, instead of men : 
Like one, that draws the model of a house 
Beyond his power to build it ; who, half through, 
Gives o'er, and leaves his part-created cost 
A naked subject to the weeping clouds, 
And waste for churlish winter's tyranny. 

K. HENRY IV., PART II., A. 1, S. 3. 



INCONSISTENCY OF THE BISHOP 
TURNING GENERAL. 

You" are well encounter' d here, my cousin 

Mowlray : 
Good day to you, gentle lord archbishop : 
And so to you, lord Hastings, — and to all. — 
My lord of York, it better show'd with you, 
When that your flock, assembled by the bell, 
Encircled you, to hear with reverence 
Tour exposition on the holy text ; 
Than now to see you here an iron man, 
Cheering a rout of rebels with your drum, 
Turning the word to sword, and life to death. 
That man, that sits within a monarch's heart, 
And ripens in the sunshine of his favour, 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 1 89 

"Would lie abuse the countenance of the king. 
Alack, what mischiefs might he set abroach. 
In shadow of such greatness ! With you, lord 

bishop, 
It is even so : — Who hath not heard it spoken, 
How deep you were within the books of God ? 
To us, the speaker in his parliament ; 
To us, the hnagin'd voice of God himself; 
The very opener and intelligencer, 
Between the grace, the sanctities of heaven. 
And our dull workings : 0, who shall believe, 
But you misuse the reverence of your place ; 
Employ the countenance and grace of heaven, 
As a false favourite doth his prince's name, 
In deeds dishonourable ? You have taken up. 
Under the counterfeited zeal of God, 
The subjects of his substitute, my father ; 
And. both against the peace of heaven and him, 
Have here up-swarm'd them. 

K. HEXBT IV,, PAST II.. A. 4, S. 2. 



INCONSTANCY. 

Paetdaxus. What says she there? 
Tboiixs. Words, words, mere words, no 
matter from the heart ; 

[Tearing the letter. 
The effect doth operate another way. — 
Go, wind, to wind, there turn and change to- 
gether. — 
^Ly love with words and errors still she feeds ; 
But edifies another with her deeds. 



TEOILUS AND CBESSIDA, A. 0, S. 3. 



190 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

INCONSTANCY OF BLIND FORTUNE. 

By your patience, ancient Pistol. Fortune is 
painted blind, with, a muffler before her eyes, to 
signify to you that fortune is blind : And she is 
painted also with a wheel ; to signify to you, 
which is the moral of it, that she is turning, and 
inconstant, and variations, and mutabilities : and 
her foot, look you, is fixed upon a spherical 
stone, which rolls, and rolls, and rolls ; — In good 
truth, the poet is make a most excellent descrip- 
tion of fortune : fortune, look you, is an excel- 
lent moral. 

K. HENRY V., A. 3, S. 6. 

INFECTION OF COMPANIONSHIP. 

If I were sawed into quantities, I should 
make four dozen of such bearded hermit's-staves 
as master Shallow. It is a wonderful thing, to 
see the semblable coherence of his men's spirits 
and his : They, by observing him, do bear them- 
selves like foolish, justices; he, by conversing 
with them, is turned into a justice-like serving- 
man ; their spirits are so married in conjunction 
with the participation of society, that they flock 
together in consent, like so many wild-geese. 
If I had a suit to master Shallow, I would 
humour his men, with the imputation of being 
near their master : if to his men, I would curry 
with master Shallow, that no man could better 
command his servants. It is certain, that either 
wise bearing, or ignorant carriage, is caught as 
men take diseases, one of another : therefore, let 
men take heed of their company. 

K. HENRY IV., PART II., A. 5, S. 1. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 1 9 1 



INFIRMITIES OF HONESTY. 

My gracious lord, 
I may be negligent, foolish, and fearful ; 
In every one of these no man is free, 
But that his negligence, his folly, fear, 
Amongst the infinite doings of the world, 
Sometime puts forth : In your affairs, my lord, 
If ever I were wilful-negligent, 
It was my folly ; if industriously 
I play'd the fool, it was my negligence, 
Not weighing well the end ; if ever fearful 
To do a thing, where I the issue doubted, 
Whereof the execution did cry out 
Against the non-performance, 'twas a fear 
Which oft affects the wisest : these, my lord, 
Are such allow' d infirmities, that honesty 
Is never free of. But, 'beseech your grace, 
Be plainer with me : let me know my trespass 
By its own visage : if I then deny it, 
J Tis none of mine. 

winter's tale, a. 1, s. 2. 



INNOCENCE. 

A heaet unspotted is not easily daunted. 
The purest spring is not so free from mud, 
As I am clear from treason to my sovereign : 
Who can accuse me ? wherein am I guilty ? 

K. HENRY VI., PART II., A. 3, S. 1. 



INSCRUTABILITY OF PROVIDENCE. 

You snatch some hence for little faults ; that's 

love, 
To have them fall no more : you some permit 



1 92 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

To second ills with ills, each elder worse ; 
And make them dread it to the doers' thrift. 

CTMBELINE, A. 5, S. 1. 



INSINCERITY. 

Notes of sorrow, out of tune, are worse 
Than priests and fanes that lie. 

CYMBELINE, A. 4, S. 2. 



INTENSITY OF FEELING INCREASED 
BY THE GREATNESS OF THE 
PRIZE. 

This jealousy- 
Is for a precious creature : as she's rare, 
Must it be great ; and, as his person's mighty, 
Must it be violent : and as he does conceive 
He is dishonour'd by a man which ever 
Profess' d to him, why, his revenges must 
In that be made more bitter. Fear o'ershades me : 
Good expedition be my friend, and comfort 
The gracious queen, part of his theme, but 

nothing 
Of his ill-ta'en suspicion ! Come, Camillo ; 
I will respect thee as a father ; if 
Thou bear'st my life off hence. 

winter's tale, a. 1, s. 2. 



IN TIME WE HATE THAT WHICH 
WE OFTEN FEAR. 

Charmian. Madam, methinks, if you did 
love him dearly, 
You do not hold the method to enforce 
The like from him. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEABE. 193 

Cleopatra. "What should I do, I do not ? 
Char. In each thing give him way, cross 

him in nothing. 
Cleo. Thou teachest like a fool : the way to 

lose him. 
Char. Tempt him not so too far: I wish, 

forbear ; 
In time we hate that which we often fear. 

ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA, A. 1, S. 3. 



INVOCATION TO THE POWERS OF 
DARKNESS. 

The raven himself is hoarse, 
That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan 
Under my battlements. Come, come, you spirits 
That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here ; 
And fill me, from the crown to the toe, top-full 
Of direst cruelty ! make thick my blood, 
Stop up the access and passage to remorse ; 
That no compunctious visitings of nature 
Shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between 
The effect, and it ! Come to my woman's breasts, 
And take my milk for gall, you murd'ring 

ministers, 
Wherever in your sightless substances 
You wait on nature's mischief! Come, thick 

night! 
And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell ! 
That my keen knife see not the wound it 

makes ; 
Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the 

dark, 
To cry, Hold, hold! Great Glamis ! worthy 

Cawdor ! 



i 9 4 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Greater than both, by the all-hail hereafter ! 
Thy letters have transported me beyond 
This ignorant present, and I feel now 
The future in the instant. 

MACBETH, A. 1, S. 5. 



LOVE REGRETTED. 

Enobarbtts. Under a compelling occasion, 
let women die : It were pity to cast them away 
for nothing ; though, between them and a great 
cause, they should be esteemed nothing. Cleo- 
patra, catching but the least noise of this, dies 
instantly; I have seen her die twenty times 
upon far poorer moment: I do think, there is 
mettle in death, which commits some loving act 
upon her, she hath such a celerity in dying. 

Antony. She is cunning past man's thoughts. 

Eno. Alack, sir, no ; her passions are made 
of nothing but the finest part of pure love: 
We cannot call her winds and waters, sighs and 
tears; they are greater storms and tempests 
than almanacks can report : this cannot be cun- 
ning in her ; if it be, she makes a shower of rain 
as well as Jove. 

Ant. 'Would I had never seen her ! 

Eno. 0, sir, you had then left unseen a 
wonderful piece of work; which not to have 
been blessed withal, would have discredited your 
travel. 

ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA, A. 1, S. 2. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 195 

LOVE'S TRUE COURSE NEVER DID 
RUN SMOOTH. 

Lysandee. Ah me ! for ought that ever I 
could read, 
Could ever hear by tale or history, 
The course of true love never did run smooth : 
But, either it was different in blood ; 

Heemia. Or cross ! too high to be enthrall' d 

to low ! 
Lys. Or else misgraffed, in respect of years ; 
Hee. Or spite! too old to be engaged to 

young ! 
Lys. Or else it stood upon the choice of 

friends : 
Hee. O hell! to choose love by another's 

eye! 
Lys. Or, if there were a sympathy in choice, 
"War, death, or sickness did lay siege to it ; 
Making it momentary as a sound, 
Swift as a shadow, short as any dream ; 
Brief as the lightning in the collied night, 
That, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and earth, 
And ere a man hath power to say, — Behold ! 
The jaws of darkness do devour it up : 
So quick bright things come to confusion. 
Hee. If then true lovers have been ever 
cross'd, 
It stands as an edict in destiny : 
Then let us teach our trial patience, 
Because it is a customary cross ; 
As due to love, as thoughts, and dreams, and 



"Wishes, and tears, poor fancy's followers. 

MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DEEAM, A. 1, S. 1. 



196 THJS PHILOSOPHY OF 

IN THE REPROOF OF CHANCE LIES 
THE TRUE PROOF OF MEN. 

With due observance of thy godlike seat, 
Great Agamemnon, Nestor shall apply 
Thy latest words. In the reproof of chance 
Lies the true proof of men : the sea being 

smooth, 
How many shallow bauble boats dare sail 
Upon her patient breast, making their way 
"With those of nobler bulk ? 
But let the ruffian Boreas once enrage 
The gentle Thetis, and, anon, behold 
The strong-ribb'd bark through liquid mountains 

cut, 
Bounding between the two moist elements, 
Like Perseus' horse: Where's then the saucy 

boat, 
Whose weak untimber'd sides but even now 
Co-rival' d greatness ? either to harbour fled, 
Or made a toast for Neptune. Even so 
Doth valour's show, and valour's worth, divide, 
In storms of fortune : for, in her ray and bright- 
ness, 
The herd hath more annoyance by the fly, 
Than by the tiger ; but when the splitting wind 
Makes flexible the knees of knotted oaks, 
And flies fled under shade, Why, then, the thing 

of courage, 
As rous'd with rage, with rage doth sympathize, 
And with an accent tun'd in self-same key, 
Returns to chiding fortune. 

TROILUS AND CllKSSIDA, A. 1 , S 3. 



WILLIA3I SHAKESPEARE. 197 

THRICE AEE HEROES ARMED 
WHEN HONOURED WIVES GIVE 
COUNSEL. 

Lady Peect. 0, yet, for GTod's sake, go not 

to these wars ! 
The time was, father, that you broke your word, 
When you were more endear 5 d to it than now ; 
When your own Percy, when my heart's dear 

Harry, 
Threw many a northward look to see his father 
Bring up his powers ; but he did long in vain. 
Who then persuaded you to stay at home ? 
There were two honours lost ; yours, and your 

son's. 
Eor yours, — may heavenly glory brighten it ! 
Eor his, — it stuck upon him, as the sun 
In the grey vault of heaven : and, by his light, 
Did all the chivalry of England move 
To do brave acts ; he was, indeed, the glass 
Wherein the noble youth did dress themselves. 
He had no legs, that practis'd not his gait : 
And speaking thick, which nature made his 

blemish, 
Became the accents of the valiant ; 
For those that could speak low, and tardily, 
Would turn their own perfection to abuse, 
To seem like him : So that, in speech, in gait, 
In diet, in affections of delight, 
In military rules, humours of blood, 
He was the mark and glass, copy and book, 
That fashion'd others. And him, — O wondrous 

him! 
O miracle of men ! — him did you leave, 
(Second to none, unseconded by you,) 
To look upon the hideous god of war 



198 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

In disadvantage ; to abide a field, 

Where nothing but the sound of Hotspur's 

name 
Did seem defensible ; — so you left him : 
Never, O never, do his ghost the wrong, 
To hold your honour more precise and nice 
With others, than with him ; let them alone ; 
The marshal, and the archbishop, are strong : 
Had my sweet Harry had but half their numbers, 
To-day might I, hanging on Hotspur's neck, 
Have talk'd of Monmouth's grave. 

X. HENRY IV., PART II., A. 2, S. 3. 



JOY OF BOON COMPANIONSHIP. 

Bolingbeoke. How far is it, my lord, to 
Berkley now ? 

Noethumbeelakd. Believe me, noble lord, 
I am a stranger here in Gloster shire. 
These high wild hills, and rough uneven ways, 
Draw out our miles, and make them wearisome : 
And yet your fair discourse hath been as sugar, 
Making the hard way sweet and delectable. 
But, I bethink me, what a weary way 
Prom Bavenspurg to Cots wold, will be found 
In Boss and Willoughby, wanting your company; 
Which, I protest, hath very much beguil'd 
The tediousness and process of my travel : 
But theirs is sweeten' d with the hope to have 
The present benefit which I possess : 
And hope to joy, is little less in joy, 
Than hope enjoy 'd : by this the weary lords 
Shall make their way seem short ; as mine hath 
done 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEABE. 1 99 

By sight of what I have, your noble company. 

Bo ling. Of much less value is my company, 
Than your good words. 

K. RICHARD II., A. 2, S. 2. 



KISS THE BOD FOE MAKING THE 
FUTUBE MOBE CHEEBFUL. 

'Tis good for men to love their present pains, 
Upon example ; so the spirit is eased : 
And, when the mind is quicken' d, out of doubt, 
The organs, though defunct and dead before, 
Break up their drowsy grave, and newly move 
"With casted slough and fresh legerity. 

K t HENRY V., A. 4, S. 1. 



LOVE'S PLEADINGS, 

Maeia^a. Isabel, 

Sweet Isabel, do yet but kneel by me ; 
Hold up your hands, say nothing, I'll speak all. 
They say, best men are moulded out of faults ; 
And, for the most, become much more the better 
For being a little bad : so may my husband. 
O, Isabel ! will you not lend a knee ? 

Dtjke. He dies for Claudio's death. 

Isabella. Most bounteous sir, 

{Kneeling, 
Look, if it please you, on this man condemn' d, 
As if my brother liv'd : I partly think, 
A due sincerity govern'd his deeds, 
Till he did look on me ; since it is so, 
Let him not die : My brother had but justice, 
In that he did the thing for which he died : 
For Angelo, 



2oo THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

His act did not o'ertake his bad intent ; 

And must be buried but as an intent 

That perish' d by the way: thoughts are no 

subjects ; 
Intents but merely thoughts. 

MEASURE FOR MEASURE, A. 5, S. 1. 



LET NOT MEN USE YOU AS THE 

CUCKOO DOES THE SPARROW. 

It pleas' d your majesty, to turn your looks 
Of favour, from myself and all our house ; 
And yet I must remember you, my lord, 
We were the first and dearest of your friends. 
For you, my staff of office did I break 
In Richard's time ; and posted day and night 
To meet you on the way, and kiss your hand, 
When yet you were in place and in account 
Nothing so strong and fortunate as I. 
It was myself, my brother, and his son, 
That brought you home, and boldly did outdare 
The dangers of the time : Tou swore to us, — 
And you did swear that oath at Doncaster, — 
That you did nothing purpose 'gainst the state ; 
Nor claim no further than your new-fall' n right, 
The seat of Gaunt, dukedom of Lancaster : 
To this we swore our aid. But, in short space,! 
It rain'd down fortune showering on your head ; 
And such a flood of greatness fell on you, — 
What with our help ; what with the absent king ; 
What with the injuries of a wanton time ; 
The seeming sufferances that you had borne ; 
And the contrarious winds, that held the king 
So long in his unlucky Irish wars, 
That all in England did repute him dead. — 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 201 

And, from this swarm of fair advantages, 
You took occasion to be quickly woo'd 
To gripe the general sway into your hand : 
Forgot your oath to us at JDoncaster ; 
And, being fed by us, you us'd us so 
As that ungentle gull, the cuckoo's bird, 
Useth the sparrow : did oppress our nest ; 
Grew by our feeding to so great a bulk, 
That even our love durst not come near your 

sight, 
For fear of swallowing ; but with nimble wing 
We were enforc'd, for safety sake, to fly 
Out of your sight, and raise this present head : 
Whereby we stand opposed by such means 
As you yourself have forg'd against yourself; 
By unkind usage, dangerous countenance, 
And violation of all faith and troth 
Sworn to us in your younger enterprize. 

K. HENRY IV., PART 1., A. 5, S. 1. 



LIBERTY A CLOAK FOR SELFISH- 
NESS. 

I know where I will wear this dagger then ; 
Cassius from bondage will deliver Cassius : 
Therein, ye gods, ye make the weak most strong ; 
Therein, ye gods, you tyrants do defeat ; 
Nor stony tower, nor walls of beaten brass, 
Nor airless dungeon, nor strong links of iron, 
Can be retentive to the strength of spirit : 
But life, being weary of these worldly bars, 
Never lacks power to dismiss itself. 
If I know this, know all the world besides, 
That part of tyranny, that I do bear, 
I can shake off at pleasure. 



202 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

And why should Ccesar be a tyrant then ? 
Poor man ! I know, he would not be a wolf, 
But that he sees, the Romans are but sheep : 
He were no lion, were not Romans hinds. 
Those that with haste will make a mighty fire, 
Begin it with weak straws : "What trash is Borne, 
"What rubbish, and what offal, when it serves 
For the base matter to illuminate 
So vile a thing as Ccesar ? But, O, grief ! 
Where hast thou led me ? I, perhaps, speak this 
Before a willing bondman : then I know 
My answer must be made : But I am arm'd, 
And dangers are to me indifferent. 

JULIUS C2ESAR, A. 1, S. 3. 



LIBERTY ABUSED WHEN CON- 
SCIENCE IS MISUSED. 

Lijcio. Why, how now, Claudio? whence 
comes this restraint ? 

Claudio. From too much liberty, my Zucio, 
liberty : 
As surfeit is the father of much fast ; 
So every scope by the immoderate use, 
Turns to restraint : Our natures do pursue, 
(Like rats that ravin down their proper bane,) 
A thirsty evil, and when we drink, we die. 

MEASURE FOR MEASURE, A. 1, S. 3. 



LOVE'S LIFE AND DEATH. 

O Charmian, 
Where think' st thou he is now ? Stands he, or 
sits he ? 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 203 

Or does lie walk ? or is lie on his horse ? 

O happy horse, to bear the weight of Antony ! 

Do bravely, horse! for wot'st thou whom thou 

mov'st ? 
The demi- Atlas of this earth, the arm 
And burgonet of men. — He's speaking now, 
Or murmuring, Where's my serpent of old Nile ? 
For so he calls me ; Now I feed myself 
"With most delicious poison : — Think on me, 
That am with Phoebus' amorous pinches black, 
And wrinkled deep in time ? Broad-fronted 

Ccesar, 
"When thou wast here above the ground, I was 
A morsel for a monarch : and great Pompey 
"Would stand, and make his eyes grow in my 

brow ; 
There would he anchor his aspect, and die 
"With looking on his life. 

ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA, A. 1, S. 5. 



REMORSE OF CONSCIENCE. 

Macbeth. But wherefore could not I pro- 
nounce, amen ? 
I had most need of blessing, and amen 
Stuck in my throat. 

Lady Macbeth. These deeds must not be 
thought 
After these ways ; so, it will make us mad. 
Macb. Methought, I heard a voice cry, Sleep 
no more ! 
Macbeth does murder sleep, the innocent sleep ; 
Sleep, that knits up the ravell'd sleave of care, 
The death of each day's life, sore labour's lath, 



204 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course, 
Chief nourislier in life's feast. 

Lady M. What do you mean ? 

Macb. Still it cried, Sleep no more! to all 
the house : 
Glamis hath murder' d sleep : and therefore Cawdor 
Shall sleep no more, Macbeth shall sleep no more ! 

Lady M. Who was it that thus cried ? Why, 
worthy thane, 
Tou do unbend your noble strength, to think 
So brainsickly of things : — Go, get some water, 
And wash this filthy witness from your hand. — 
Why did you bring these daggers from the place ? 
They must lie there: Go, carry them; and smear 
The sleepy grooms with blood. 

Macb. I'll go no more : 

I am afraid to think what I have done ; 
Look on't again, I dare not. 

Lady M. Infirm of purpose ! 

Give me the daggers: The sleeping, and the dead, 
Are but as pictures : 'tis the eye of childhood, 
That fears a painted devil. If he do bleed, 
I'll gild the faces of the grooms withal, 
For it must seem their guilt. 

[Exit. Knocking within. 

Macb. Whence is that knocking ? 

How is't with me, when every noise appals me ? 
What hands are here ? Ha ! they pluck out 

mine eyes ! 
Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood 
Clean from my hand ? No ; this my hand will 

rather 
The multitudinous seas incarnardine, 
Making the green — one red. 

MACBETH, A. 2, S. 2. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 205 

LIGHT AND SHADE. 

This man, lady, hath robbed many beasts of 
their particular additions ; he is as valiant as the 
lion, churlish as the bear, slow as the elephant : a 
man into whom nature hath so crowded humours, 
that his valour is crushed into folly, his folly 
sauced with discretion : there is no man hath a 
virtue that he hath not a glimpse of; nor any 
man an attaint, but he carries some stain of it : 
he is melancholy without cause, and merry against 
the hair : He hath the joints of every thing ; but 
every thing so out of joint, that he is a gouty 
Briareus, many hands and no use ; or purblind 
Argus, all eyes and no sight. They say, he 
yesterday coped Sector in the battle, and struck 
him down ; the disdain and shame whereof hath 
ever since kept Hector fasting and waking. 

TROILUS AND CKESSIDA, A. 1, S. 2. 



LIGHT EVER BLESSED.— MUSIC 
EVER WELCOME. 

Portia. That light we see, is burning in my 
hall. 
How far that little candle throws his beams ! 
So shines a good deed in a naughty world. 

Nerissa. When the moon shone, we did 
not see the candle. 

Por. So doth the greater glory dim the less : 
A substitute shines brightly as a king, 
Until a king be by ; and then his state 
Empties itself, as doth an inland brook 
Into the main of waters. Music ! hark ! 

Ner. It is your musick, madam, of the house. 



206 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Por. Nothing is good, I see, without respect ; 
Methinks, it sounds much sweeter than by day. 

Neb. Silence bestows that virtue on it, madam. 

Por. The crow doth sing as sweetly as the 
lark, 
When neither is attended ; and, I think, 
The nightingale, if she should sing by day, 
When every goose is cackling, would be thought 
No better a musician than the wren. 
How many things by season season' d are 
To their right praise, and true perfection ! — 
Peace, hoa ! the moon sleeps with Endymion, 
And would not be awak'd ! 

Lorenzo. That is the voice, 

Or I am much deceiv'd, of Portia. 

MERCHANT OF VENICE, A. 5, S. 1. 



LIGHTS AND SHADES OF LIFE. 

The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, 
good and ill together: our virtues would be 
proud if our faults whipped them not ; and our 
faults would despair, if they were not cherished 
by our virtues. — 

all's well that ends well, a. 4, s. 3. 



LIVING DEATH. 

Accursed and unquiet wrangling days ! 
How many of you have mine eyes beheld ? 
My husband lost his life to get the crown ; 
And often up and down my sons were tost, 
For me to joy, and weep, their gain, and loss : 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 207 

And being seated, and domestick broils 
Clean over-blown, themselves, the conquerors, 
Make war upon themselves ; brother to brother, 
Blood to blood, self 'gainst self : — 0, preposterous 
And frantick courage, end thy damned spleen : 
Or let me die, to look on death no more ! 

K. RICHARD III.. A. 2, S. 4. 



LOCALITY OF BIRTH. 

I think, the sun, where he was born, 
Drew all such humours from him. 

OTHELLO, A. 3, S. 4. 



LOVE. 



O, Pandarus ! I tell thee, Pandarus, — 
"When I do tell thee, There my hopes lie drown' d, 
Reply not in how many fathoms deep 
They lie indrench'd. I tell thee, I am mad 
In Cressid's love : Thou answer' st, She is fair ; 
Pour'st in the open ulcer of my heart 
Her eyes, her hair, her cheek, her gait, her voice ; 
Handiest in thy discourse, O, that her hand, 
In whose comparison all whites are ink, 
Writing their own reproach; To whose soft seizure 
The cygnet's down is harsh, and spirit of sense 
Hard as the palm of ploughman! This thou 

tell'st me, 
As true thou tell'st me, when I say — I love her ; 
But, saying thus, instead of oil and balm, 
Thou lay'st in every gash that love hath given me 
The knife that made it. 

TROILUS AND CRESSIDA, A. 1, S. 1. 



2o8 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 



LOVE. 

Nat, stay a little : 

"Were you but riding forth to air yourself, 
Such parting were too petty. Look here, love ; 
This diamond was my mother's : take it, heart ; 
But keep it till you woo another wife, 
"When Imogen is dead. 

CYMBELINE, A. 1, S. 2. 



LOVE. 



I saw her coral lips to move, 

And with her breath she did perfume the air ; 

Sacred, and sweet, was all I saw in her. 

TAMING OP THE SHREW, A. 1, S. 1. 



LOVE CONSTANT. 

"What you do, 
Still betters what is done. When you speak, 

sweet, 
I'd have you do it ever : when you sing, 
I'd have you buy and sell so ; so give alms ; 
Pray so ; and, for the ordering of your affairs, 
To sing them too : WTien you do dance, I wish 

you 
A wave o' the sea, that you might ever do 
Nothing but that ; move still, still so, and own 
No other function : Each your doing, 
So singular in each particular, 
Crowns what you are doing in the present deeds, 
That all your acts are queens. 

winter's tale, a. 4, s. 3. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 209 

LOVE CONSTANT. 

Mtsele have often heard him say, and swear, — 
That this his love was an eternal plant ; 
Whereof the root was fix'd in virtue's ground, 
The leaves and fruit maintain' d with beauty's sun; 
Exempt from envy, but not from disdain, 
Unless the lady Bona quit his pain. 

K. HENRY VI., PART III., A. 3, S. 3. 



LOVE EQUAL. 

He says, he loves my daughter ; 
I think so too : for never gaz'd the moon 
Upon the water, as he'll stand, and read, 
As 'twere, my daughter's eyes : and, to be plain, 
I think, there is not half a kiss to choose, 
Who love's another best. 

winter's tale, a. 4, s.3. 



LOVE HEAVENLY. 

I beseech you, sir, 
Harm not yourself with your vexation ; I 
I Am senseless of your wrath ; a touch more rare 
Subdues all pangs, all fears. 

CYMBELINE, A. 1, S. 2. 



LOVE IN CHAINS. 

Phebe. Good shepherd, tell this youth what 

'tis to love. 
Silvia. It is to be all made of sighs and 
tears ; — 
It is to be all made of faith and service ; — 



2 1 o THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

It is to be all made of fantasy, 

All made of passion, and all made of wishes ; 

All adoration, duty, and observance, 

All humbleness, all patience, and impatience, 

All purity, all trial, all observance. 

AS YOU LIKE IT, A. 5, S. 2. 



LOVE IN FAIRY LAND. 

Set your heart at rest, 
The fairy land buys not the child of me. 
His mother was a vot'ress of my order : 
And, in the spiced Indian air, by night, 
Pull often hath she gossip' d by my side ; 
And sat with me on Neptune's yellow sands, 
Marking the embarked traders on the flood ; 
"When we have laugh' d to see the sails conceive, 
And grow big-bellied, with the wanton wind : 
"Which she, with pretty and with swimming gait, 
Following (her womb, then rich with my young 

squire,) 
Would imitate ; and sail upon the land, 
To fetch me trifles, and return again, 
As from a voyage, rich with merchandize, 
But she, being mortal, of that boy did die ; 
And, for her sake, I do rear up her boy : 
And, for her sake, I will not part with him. 

MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM, A. 2, S. 2. 



LOVE IN POWER AND COARSENESS. 
LOVE IN BEAUTY AND PURITY. 

Duke. Get thee to yon' same sovereign 
cruelty : 



WILLIAM SHAKLJSPLJABLJ. 2 1 1 

Tell her, my love, more noble than the world, 

Prizes not quantity of dirty lands ; 

The parts that fortune hath bestow' d upon her, 

Tell her, I hold as giddily as fortune ; 

But 'tis that miracle, and queen of gems, 

That nature pranks her in, attracts my soul. 

Viola. But, if she cannot love you, sir ? 

Duke. I cannot be so answer' d. 

Vio. 'Sooth, but you must. 

Say, that some lady, as, perhaps, there is, 
Hath for your love as great a pang of heart 
As you have for Olivia : you cannot love her ; 
Tou tell her so ; Must she not then be answer' d ? 

Duke. There is no woman's sides, 
Can bide the beating of so strong a passion 
As love doth give my heart : no woman's heart 
So big, to hold so much ; they lack retention. 
Alas, their love may be call'd appetite, — 
No motion of the liver, but the palate, — 
That suffer surfeit, cloyment, and revolt ; 
But mine is all as hungry as the sea, 
And can digest as much : make no compare 
Between that love a woman can bear me, 
And that I owe Olivia. 

Vio. Ay, but I know, — 

Duke. "What dost thou know ? 

Vio. Too well what love women to men may 
owe : 
In faith, they are as true of heart as we. 
My father had a daughter lov'd a man, 
As it might be, perhaps, were I a woman, 
I should your lordship. 

Duke. And what's her history ? 

Vio. A blank, my lord : She never told her 
love, 
But let concealment, like a worm i'the bud, 



2 1 2 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Feed on her damask cheek : she pin'd in thought ; 
And, with a green and yellow melancholy, 
She sat like patience on a monument, 
Smiling at grief. Was not this love, indeed ? 
"We men may say more, swear more : but, indeed, 
Our shows are more than will ; for still we prove 
Much in our vows, but little in our love. 

Duke. But died thy sister of her love, my 

boy? 
Vio. I am all the daughters of my father's 

house, 
And all the brothers too; — and yet I know 

not. — 
Sir, shall I to this lady ? 

Duke. Ay, that's the theme. 

To her in haste ; give her this jewel ; say, 
My love can give no place, bide no delay. 

TWELFTH NIGHT, A. 2, S. 4. 



LOVE INSEPARABLE. 

Let us go. Come ; 
Our separation so abides, and flies, 
That thou residing here, go'st yet with me, 
And I, hence fleeting, here remain with thee. 

ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA, A. 1, S. 3. 



LOVE NOT ALWAYS GOVERNED 
BY REASON. 

Cleopatra. I am sick, and sullen. 

Antony. I am sorry to give breathing to 
my purpose. — 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 2 1 3 

Cleo. Help me away, dear Charmicm, I shall 
fall; 
It cannot be thus long, the sides of nature 
Will not sustain it. 

Ant. Now, my dearest queen, — 

Cleo. Pray you, stand further from me. 

Ant. What's the matter ? 

Cleo. I know, by that same eye, there's 
some good news. 
What says the married woman ? — Tou may go ; 
'Would, she had never given you leave to come ! 
Let her not say 'tis I that kept you here, 
I have no power upon you ; hers you are. 

Ant. The gods best know, — 

Cleo. O, never was there queen 

So mightily betray' d ! 
Why should I think, you can be mine, and 

true, 
Though you in swearing shake the throned gods, 
Who have been false to Fulvia? Biotous 

madness, 
To be entangled with those mouth-made vows, 
Which break themselves in swearing ! 

Ant. Most sweet queen, — 

Cleo. Nay, pray you, seek no colour for 
your going, 
But bid farewell, and go : when you sued staying, 
Then was the time for words : No going then ; — 
Eternity was in our lips, and eyes ; 
Bliss in our brows' bent ; none our parts so poor, 
But was a race of heaven : They are so still, 
Or thou, the greatest soldier of the world, 
Art turn'd the greatest liar. 

ANTONY AND CLEOPATBA, A. 1, S. 3, 



214 TEE PEILOSOPEY OF 

LOVE OFT FAILS WHEN CEREMONY 
COMMENCES. 

Thou hast describ'd 
A hot friend cooling : Ever note, Lncilius, 
"When love begins to sicken and decay, 
It useth an enforc'd ceremony. 
There are no tricks in plain and simple faith : 
But hollow men, like horses hot at hand, 
Make gallant show and promise of their mettle ; 
But when they should endure the bloody spur, 
They fall their crests, and, like deceitful jades, 
Sink in the trial. 

JULIUS C2ESAR, A. 4, S. 2. 



LOVE ONE-SIDED. 

I no affect the very ground, which is base, 
where her shoe, which is baser, guided by her 
foot, which is basest, doth tread. I shall be 
foresworn, (which is a great argument of false- 
hood,) if I love: And how can that be true 
love, which is falsely attempted? Love is a 
familiar ; love is a devil : there is no evil angel 
but love. Yet Sampson was so tempted ; and he 
had an excellent strength : yet was Solomon so 
seduced ; and he had a very good wit. Cupid's 
butt-shaft is too hard for Hercules'" club, and 
therefore too much odds for a Spaniard's rapier. 
The first and second cause will not serve my 
turn ; the passado he respects not, the duello he 
regards not : his disgrace is to be called boy ; 
but his glory is, to subdue men. Adieu, valour ! 
rust, rapier ! be still, drum ! for your manager is 
in love; yea, he loveth. Assist me some 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 2 1 5 

extemporal god of rhyme, for, I am sure, I shall 
turn sonneteer. Devise, wit ; write, pen ; for I 
am for whole volumes in folio. 

love's labour's lost, a. 1, s. 2. 



LOVE OVERPOWERING DUTY. 

Call here my varlet, I'll unarm again : 
"Why should I war without the walls of Troy, 
That find such cruel battle here within ? 
Each Trojan, that is master of his heart, 
Let him to field ; Troilus, alas ! hath none. 
The Greeks are strong, and skilful to their 

strength, 
Fierce to their skill, and to their fierceness 

valiant ; 
But I am weaker than a woman's tear, 
Tamer than sleep, fonder than ignorance ; 
Less valiant than the virgin in the night, 
And skill-less as unpractis'd infancy. 

TROILUS AND CRESSIDA, A. 1, S. 1. 



LOVE SCOLDING A PRETENDER. 

Profane fellow ! 

Wert thou the son of Jupiter, and no more, 

But what thou art besides, thou wert too base 

To be his groom : thou wert dignified enough, 

Even to the point of envy, if 'twere made 

Comparative for your virtues, to be styl'd 

The under hangman of his kingdom ; and hated 

For being preferr'd so well. 

1 ^_ _ 



2i6 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

To be but nam'd of thee. His meanest garment, 
That ever hath but clipp'd his body, is dearer, 
In my respect, than all the hairs above thee, 
Were they all made such men. 

CYMBELINE, A. 2, S. 3. 



LOVE,— THE MIGHTY CONQUEROR 
COMES SOMETIMES WHEN LEAST 
EXPECTED. 

O ! — akd I, forsooth, in love ! I, that have been 

love's whip ; 
A very beadle to a humorous sigh ; 
A critick ; nay, a night-watch constable ; 
A domineering pedant o'er the boy, 
Than whom no mortal so magnificent ! 
This wimpled, whining, purblind, wayward boy; 
This senior-junior, giant-dwarf, Bern Cupid: 
Regent of love-rhymes, lord of folded arms, 
The anointed sovereign of sighs and groans, 
Liege of all loiterers and malcontents, 
Dread prince of plackets, 
Sole imperator, and great general 
Of trotting paritors, O my little heart ! — 
And I to be a corporal of his field, 
And wear his colours like a tumbler's hoop ! 
What ? I ! I love ! I sue ! I seek a wife ! 
A woman, that is like a German clock, 
Still a repairing ; ever out of frame ; 
And never going aright, being a watch, 
But being watch' d that it may still go right ? 
Nay, to be perjur'd, which is worst of all ; 
And, among three, to love the worst of all ; 
A whitely wanton with a velvet brow 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. z 1 7 

"With two pitch balls stuck in her face for eyes ; 

And I to sigh for her ! to watch for her ! 

To pray for her ! Go to ; it is a plague 

That Cupid will impose for my neglect 

Of his almighty dreadful little might. 

"Well, I will love, write, sigh, pray, sue, and 

groan ; 
Some men must love my lady, and some Joan. 

LOVES LABOUR'S LOST, A. 3, S. 1. 



LOVE,— THE PURSUIT MAKES THE 
EOMANCE. 

Words, vows, griefs, tears, and love's full 

sacrifice, 
He offers in another's enterprize : 
But more in Troilus thousand fold I see 
Than in the glass of Pandar's praise may be ; 
Tet hold I off. Women are angels, wooing : 
Things won are done, joy's soul lies in the doing : 
That she belov'd knows nought, that knows not 

this, — 
Men prize the thing ungain'd more than it is : 
That she was never yet, that ever knew 
Love got so sweet, as when desire did sue : 
Therefore this maxim out of love I teach, — 
Achievement is command ; ungain'd, beseech : 
Then thoughmy heart's content firm love dothbear, 
Nothing of that shall from mine eyes appear. 

TROILUS AND CRESSIDA, A. 1, S. 2. 



LOVE'S ANGUISH. 

Injurious Hermia ! most ungrateful maid ! 
Have you conspir'd, have you with these contriv'd 



2i 8 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

To bait me with this foul derision ? 

Is all the counsel that we two have shar'd, 

The sisters' vows, the hours that we have spent, 

When we have chid the hasty-footed time 

For parting us, — O, and is all forgot ? 

All school-days' friendship, childhood innocence ? 

We, Hermia, like two artificial gods, 

Have with our neelds created both one flower, 

Both on one sampler, sitting on one cushion, 

Both warbling of one song, both in one key ; 

As if our hands, our sides, voices, and minds, 

Had been incorporated. So we grew together, 

Like to a double cherry, seeming parted, 

But yet a union in partition ; 

Two lovely berries moulded on one stem : 

So, with two seeming bodies, but one heart ; 

Two of the first, like coats in heraldry, 

Due but to one, and crowned with one crest. 

And will you rend our ancient love asunder, 

To join with men in scorning your poor friend ? 

It is not friendly, 'tis not maidenly : 

Our sex, as well as I, may chide you for it ; 

Though I alone do feel the injury. 

Have you not set Lysander, as in scorn, 

To follow me, and praise my eyes and face ? 

And made your other love, Demetrius, 

(Who even but now did spurn me with his foot,) 

To call me goddess, nymph, divine, and rare, 

Precious, celestial ? Wherefore speaks he this 

To her he hates ? and wherefore doth Lysander 

Deny your love, so rich within his soul, 

And tender me, forsooth, affection, 

But by your setting on, by your consent ? 

What though I be not so in grace as you, 

So hung upon with l6ve, so fortunate ; 
I 



WILLIAM SHAKUSPUAEJE. 2 1 9 

This you should pity, rather than despise. 
Ay, do, persever, counterfeit sad looks, 
Make mows upon me when I turn my back ; 
Wink at each other ; hold the sweet jest up : 
This sport, welLcarried, shall be chronicled. 
If you have any pity, grace, or manners, 
Tou would not make me such an argument. 
But, fare ye well : 'tis partly mine own fault ; 
Which death, or absence, soon shall remedy. 

MIDSUMMMER NIGHT'S DREAM, A. 3, S. 2. 



LOVE'S APOLOGY FOR JEALOUSY. 

His company must do his minions grace, 
Whilst I at home starve for a merry look. 
Hath homely age the alluring beauty took 
Erom my poor cheek ? then he hath wasted it ; 
Are my discourses dull ? barren my wit ? 
If voluble and sharp discourse be marr'd, 
Unkindness blunts it, more than marble hard. 
Do their gay vestments his affections bait ? 
That's not my fault, he's master of my state : 
What ruins are in me, that can be found 
By him not ruined ? then is he the ground 
Of my defeatures : My decayed fair 
A sunny look of his would soon repair : 
But, too unruly deer, he breaks the pale, 
And feeds from home ; poor I am but his stale. 
Unfeeling fools can with such wrongs dispense. 
I know his eye doth homage otherwhere ; 
Or else, what lets it but he would be here ? 
Sister, you know, he promis'd me a chain ; — 
Would that alone, alone he would detain, 
So he would keep fair quarter with his bed ! 
I see, the jewel best enamelled, 



220 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

"Will lose his beauty; and though gold 'bides 

still, 
That others touch, yet often touching will 
Wear gold ; and so no man that hath a name, 
But falsehood and corruption doth it shame. 
Since that my beauty cannot please his eye, 
I'll weep what's left away, and weeping die. 

COMEDY OF ERRORS, A. 2, S. 1. 



LOVE'S ATTRACTION. 

Thou foolish thing ! — 
They were again together : you have done 
Not after our command. Away with her, 
And pen her up. 

CYMBELINE, A. 1, S. 2. 



LOVE'S BANTERING. 

Rosalind. Come, sister, you shall be the 
priest, and marry us. — Give me your hand, 
Orlando : — What do you say, sister ? 

Orlando. Pray thee, marry us. 

Celia. I cannot say the words. 

Ros. You must begin, — Will you, Orlando, — 

Cel. Gro to : Will you, Orlando, have to 

wife this Rosalind ? 

Orl. I will. 

Ros. Ay, but when ? 

Orl. Why now ; as fast as she can marry us. 

Ros. Then you must say, — I take thee, Rosa- 
lind, for wife. 

Orl. I take thee, Rosalind, for wife. 

Ros. I might ask you for your commission ; 



WILLIAM SJZAKLJSPEABL!. 221 

but, — I do take thee, Orlando, for my husband : 
There a girl goes before the priest; and, cer- 
tainly, a woman's thought runs before her 
actions. 

Oel. So do all thoughts ; they are winged. 

Eos. Now tell me, how long you would have 
her, after you have possessed her. 

Oel. For ever, and a day. 

Eos. Say a day, without the ever : No, no, 
Orlando; men are April when, they woo, Decern- 
her when they wed : maids are May when they 
are maids, but the sky changes when they are 
wives. I will be more jealous of thee than a 
Barbary cock-pigeon over his hen ; more clamor- 
ous than a parrot against rain ; more new-fangled 
than an ape ; more giddy in my desires than a 
monkey : I will weep for nothing, like Diana in 
the fountain, and I will do that when you are 
disposed to be merry ; I will laugh like a hyen, 
and that when thou art inclined to sleep. 

Oel. But will my 'Rosalind do so ? 

Eos. By my life, she will do as I do. 

Oel. O, but she is wise. 

Eos. Or else she could not have the wit to 
do this : the wiser, the waywarder : Make the 
doors upon a woman's wit, and it will out at the 
casement ; shut that, and 'twill out at the key- 
hole ; stop that, 'twill fly with the smoke out at 
the chimney. 

AS YOU LIKE IT, A. 4, S. 1. 



LOVE'S BIDDING. 

Moetimee. O, I am ignorance itself in this. 
G-lendower. She bids you 
Upon the wanton rushes lay you down, 



222 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

And rest your gentle head upon her lap, 
And she will sing the song that pleaseth you, 
And on your eye-lids crown the god of sleep, 
Charming your blood with pleasing heaviness ; 
Making such difference 'twixt wake and sleep, 
As is the difference betwixt day and night, 
The hour before the heavenly-harness' d team 
Begins his golden progress in the east. 

K. HENRY IV., PART I., A. 3, S. 1. 



LOVE'S CONQUEST. 

Let Pome in Tyler melt ! and the wide arch 
Of the rang'd empire fall ! Here is my space ; 
Kingdoms are clay : our dungy earth alike 
Feeds beast as man : the nobleness of life 
Is, to do thus ; when such a mutual pair, 

\E7nbrac1ng \ 
And such a twain can do't, in which, I bind 
On pain of punishment, the world to weet, 
We stand up peerless. Stirr'd by Cleopatra. — 
Now, for the love of Love, and her soft hours, 
Let's not confound the time with conference 

harsh : 
There's not a minute of our lives should stretch 
"Without some pleasure now. 

ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA, A. 1, S. 1. 



LOVE'S ECSTACY. 

How all the other passions fleet to air, 
As doubtful thoughts, and rash-embrac'd despair, 
And shudd'ring fear and green-ey'd jealousy. 
love, be moderate, allay thy ecstacy, 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 223 

In measure rain thy joy, scant this excess ; 
I feel too much thy blessing, make it less, 
For fear I surfeit ! 

MERCHANT OF VENICE, A. 3, S. 2. 



LOVE'S ERRORS. 

My mistress with a monster is in love. 
Near to her close and consecrated bower, 
While she was in her dull and sleeping hour, 
A crew of patches, rude mechanicals, 
That work for bread upon Athenian stalls, 
"Were met together to rehearse a play, 
Intended for great Theseus' nuptial day. 
The shallowest thick-skin of that barren sort, 
Who JPyramus presented, in their sport 
Forsook his scene, and enter' d in a brake : 
When I did him at this advantage take, 
An. ass's nowl I fixed on his head ; 
Anon, his Thisbe must be answered, 
And forth my mimick comes : When they him 

spy, 
As wild geese that the creeping fowler eye, 
Or russet-pated choughs, many in sort, 
Rising and cawing at the gun's report, 
Sever themselves, and madly sweep the sky ; 
So at his sight, away his fellows fly : 
And, at our stamp, here o'er and o'er one falls ; 
He murder cries, and help from Athens calls. 
Their sense, thus weak, lost with their fears, 

thus strong, 
Made senseless things begin to do them wrong : 
For briers and thorns at their apparel snatch ; 
Some, sleeves; some, hats: from yielders all 

things catch. 



224 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

I led them on in this distracted fear, 
And left sweet Pyramus translated there : 
When in that moment (so it came to pass,) 
Titania wak'd, and straightway lov'd an ass. 

MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM, A. 3, S. 2. 



LOVE'S FANTASIES. 

O brawling love ! O loving hate ! 
O any thing, of nothing first create ! 
O heavy lightness ! serious vanity ! 
Mis-shapen chaos of well-seeming forms ! 
Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick 

health ! 
Still- waking sleep, that is not what it is ! — 
This love feel I, that feel no love in this. 
Dost thou not laugh ? 

ROMEO AND JULIET, A. 1, S. 1. 



LOVE'S GEAVITATION. 

Dromio. I have but lean luck in the match, 
and yet is she a wondrous fat marriage. 

Antipholus. How dost thou mean, a fat 
marriage ? 

Deo. Marry, sir, she's the kitchen wench, 
and all grease ; and I know not what use to put 
her to, but to make a lamp of her, and run from 
her by her own light. I warrant, her rags, and 
the tallow in them, will burn a Poland winter : 
if she lives till doomsday, she'll burn a week 
longer than the whole world. 

Ant. What complexion is she of? 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 225 

Deo. Swart, like my shoe, but her face 
nothing like so clean kept; For why? she 
sweats, a man may go over shoes in the grime 
of it. 

COMEDY OF ERRORS, A. 3, S. 2. 



LOVE'S MEDIATORSHIP— ITS DAN- 
GEES AND ITS CONQUESTS. 

Viola. And he is yours, and his must needs 
be yours ; 
Tour servant's servant is your servant, madam. 
Olivia. For him, I think not on him : for 
his thoughts, 
Would they were blanks, rather than filled with 
me! 
Vio. Madam, I come to whet your gentle 
thoughts 
On his behalf : — 

Oli. O, by your leave, I pray you ; 

I bade you never speak again of him : 
But, would you undertake another suit, 
I had rather hear you to solicit that, 
Than musick from the spheres. 

Vio. Dear lady, 

Oli. Give me leave, I beseech you: I did 
send, 
After the last enchantment you did here, 
A ring in chase of you ; so did I abuse 
Myself, my servant, and, I fear me, you : 
Under your hard construction must I sit, 
To force that on you, in a shameful cunning, 
"Which you knew none of yours : "What might 

you think ? 
Have you not set mine honour at the stake, 
And baited it with all the unmuzzled thoughts 
Q 



226 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

That tyrannous heart can think ? To one of 

your receiving 
Enough is shown ; a Cyprus, not a bosom, 
Hides my poor heart : So let me hear you speak. 

Vio. I pity you. 

Oli. That's a degree to love. 

Vio. No, not a grise ; for 'tis a vulgar proof, 
That very oft we pity enemies. 

Oli. Why, then, methinks, 'tis time to smile 
again: 

world, how apt the poor are to be proud ! 
If one should be a prey, how much the better 
To fall before the lion, than the wolf ? 

\Clock strikes. 
The clock upbraids me with the waste of time. — 
Be not afraid, good youth, I will not have you : 
And yet, when wit and youth is come to harvest, 
Tour wife is like to reap a proper man : 
There lies your way, due west. 

Vio. Then westward-hoe : 

Grace, and good disposition 'tend your ladyship! 
You'll nothing, madam, to my lord by me ? 

Oli. Stay : 

1 pr'ythee, tell me, what thou think'st of me. 
Vio. That you do think, you are not what 

you are. 
Oli. If I think so, I think the same of you. 
Vio. Then think you right ; I am not what 

I am. 
Oli. I would, you were as I would have you 

be! 
Vio. Would it be better, madam, than I 
am? 
I wish it might ; for now I am your fool. 

Oli. O, what a deal of scorn looks beautiful 
In the contempt and anger of his lip ! 



WILLIAM SHAKESPJEABJE. 227 

A murd'rous guilt shows not itself more soon 
Than love that would seem hid : love's night is 

noon. 
Cesario, by the roses of the spring, 
By maidhood, honour, truth, and every thing, 
I love thee so, that maugre all thy pride, 
Nor wit, nor reason, can my passion hide. 
Do not extort thy reasons from this clause, 
For, that I woo, thou therefore hast no cause : 
But, rather, reason thus with reason fetter : 
Love sought is good, but given unsought, is 

better. 
Vio. By innocence I swear, and by my 

youth, 
I have one heart, one bosom, and one truth, 
And that no woman has ; nor never none 
Shall mistress be of it, save I alone. 
And so adieu, good madam ; never more 
"Will I my master's tears to you deplore. 

Oli. Tet come again: for thou, perhaps, 

may'st move 
That heart, which now abhors, to like his love. 

TWELFTH NIGHT, A. 3, S. 1. 



LOVE'S MYSTERIOUS SYMPATHIES 
AND ANTIPATHIES. 

How happy some, o'er other some can be ! 
Through Athens I am thought as fair as she. 
But what of that ? Demetrius thinks not so ; 
He will not know what all but he do know. 
And as he errs, doting on Hermids eyes, 
So I, admiring of his qualities. 
Things base and vile, holding no quantity, 
Love can transpose to form and dignity. 



228 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind ; 
And therefore is wing'd Cupid painted blind. 
Nor hath love's mind of any judgment taste ; 
Wings, and no eyes, figure unheedy haste : 
And therefore is love said to be a child, 
Because in choice he is so oft beguil'd. 
As waggish boys in game themselves forswear, 
So the boy Love is perjur'd every where : 
For ere Demetrius look'd on Hermia' s eyne, 
He hail'd down oaths, that he was only mine ; 
And when this hail some heat from Hermia felt, 
So he dissolv'd, and showers of oaths did melt. 

MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM, A. 1, S. 1. 



LOVE'S MYSTERIOUS SYMPATHIES 
AND ANTIPATHIES. 

Demetrius. I love thee not, therefore pur- 
sue me not. 
Where is Lysander, and fair Hermia ? 
The one I'll slay, the other slayeth me. 
Thou told'st me, they were stol'n into this wood, 
And here am I, and wood within this wood, 
Because I cannot meet with Hermia. 
Hence, get thee gone, and follow me no more. 

Helena. You draw me, you hard-hearted 
adamant ; 
But yet you draw not iron, for my heart 
Is true as steel : Leave you your power to draw, 
And I shall have no power to follow you. 

Dem. Do I entice you? Do I speak you 
fair? 
Or, rather, do I not in plainest truth 
Tell you — I do not, nor I cannot love you ? 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 229 

Hel. And even for that do I love you the 
more. 
I am your spaniel ; and, Demetrius, 
The more you beat me, I will fawn on you : 
Use me but as your spaniel, spurn me, strike me, 
Neglect me, lose me ; only give me leave, 
Unworthy as I am, to follow you. 
What worser place can I beg in your love, 
(And yet a place of high respect with me,) 
Than to be used as you use your dog ? 

Dem. Tempt not too much the hatred of my 
spirit ; 
For I am sick, when I do look on thee. 

Hel. And I am sick, when I look not on you. 

Dem. You do impeachyour modesty too much, 
To leave the city, and commit yourself 
Into the hands of one that loves you not ; 
To trust the opportunity of night, 
And the ill counsel of a desert place, 
"With the rich worth of your virginity. 

Hel. Tour virtue is my privilege for that. 
It is not night, when I do see your face, 
Therefore I think I am not in the night : 
Nor doth this wood lack worlds of company ; 
For you, in my respect, are all the world : 
Then how can it be said, I am alone, 
When all the world is here to look on me ? 

Dem. I'll run from thee, and hide me in the 
brakes, 
And leave thee to the mercy of wild beasts. 

Hel. The wildest hath not such a heart as 
you. 
Bun when you will, the story shall be chang'd ; 
Apollo flies, and Daphne holds the chase ; 
The dove pursues the griffin ; the mild hind 
Makes speed to catch the tiger : Bootless speed ! 



2 3 o THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

When cowardice pursues, and valour flies. 

Dem. I will not stay thy questions ; let me 
go: 
Or, if thou follow me, do not believe 
But I shall do thee mischief in the wood. 

Hel. Ay, in the temple, in the town, the 
field, 
Tou do me mischief. Eye, Demetrius I 
Tour wrongs do set a scandal on my sex : 
"We cannot fight for love, as men may do : 
We should be woo'd, and were not made to woo. 
I'll follow thee, and make a heaven of hell, 
To die upon the hand I love so well. 

MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM, A. 2, S. 1. 



LOVE'S MYSTIFICATION AND 
CONFUSION. 

O spite ! hell ! I see you all are bent 

To set against me, for your merriment. 

If you were civil, and knew courtesy, 

Tou would not do me thus much injury. 

Can you not hate me, as I know you do, 

But you must join, in souls, to mock me too ? 

If you were men, as men you are in show, 

Tou would not use a gentle lady so : 

To vow, and swear, and superpraise my parts, 

When, I am sure, you hate me with your hearts. 

Tou both are rivals, and love Hermia ; 

And now both rivals, to mock Helena : 

A trim exploit, a manly enterprize, 

To conjure tears up in a poor maid's eyes, 

With your derision ! none, of noble sort, 

Would so offend a virgin, and extort 

A poor soul's patience, all to make you sport. 

MIDSUMMER NIGHTS DREAM, A. 3, S. 2. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPUABU. 23 1 

LOVE'S OFFERING. 

You see me, lord Bassanio, where I stand, 

Such as I am : though, for myself alone, 

I would not be ambitious in my wish, 

To wish myself much better ; yet, for you, 

I would be trebled twenty times myself; 

A thousand times more fair, ten thousand times 

More rich ; 

That only to stand high on your account, 

I might in virtues, beauties, livings, friends, 

Exceed account : but the full sum of me 

Is sum of something ; which, to term in gross, 

Is an unlesson'd girl, unschoord, unpractis'd; 

Happy in this, she is not yet so old 

But she may learn ; and happier than this, 

She is not bred so dull but she can learn ; 

Happiest of all, is, that her gentle spirit 

Commits itself to yours to be directed, 

As from her lord, her governor, her king. 

Myself, and what is mine, to you, and yours, 

Is now converted : but now I was the lord 

Of this fair mansion, master of my servants, 

Queen o'er myself; and even now, but now, 

This house, these servants, and this same myself, 

Are yours, my lord ; I give them with this ring ; 

"Which when you part from, lose, or give away, 

Let it presage the ruin of your love, 

And be my vantage to exclaim on you. 

MERCHANT OF VENICE , A. 3, S. 2. 



LOVE'S PARTING. 

No, madam ; for so long 
As he could make me with this eye or ear 
Distinguish him from others, he did keep 



232 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

The deck, with glove, or hat, or handkerchief, 
Still waving, as the fits and stirs of his mind 
Could best express how slow his soul sail'd on, 
How swift his ship. 

CYMBEL1NE, A. 1, S. 4. 



LOVE'S PARTING. 

I would have broke mine eye-strings ; crack' d 

them, but 
To look upon him ; till the diminution 
Of space had pointed him sharp as my needle ; 
Nay, follow' d him, till he had melted from 
The smallness of a gnat to air ; and then 
Have turn'd mine eye, and wept. 

CYMBELINE, A. 1, S. 4. 



LOVE'S PERTURBATION. 

Madam, you have bereft me of all words, 
Only my blood speaks to you in my veins : 
And there is such confusion in my powers, 
As, after some oration fairly spoke 
By a beloved prince, there doth appear 
Among the buzzing pleased multitude ; 
Where every something, being blent together, 
Turns to a wild of nothing, save of joy, 
Express' d, and not express' d. 

MERCHANT OF VENICE, A. 3, S. 2. 



LOVE'S SECRETS. 

Obekok. Gro thy way : thou shalt not from 
this grove, 
Till I torment thee for this injury. — 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 233 

My gentle Euck, come hither : Thou remember' st 

Since once I sat upon a promontory, 

And heard a mermaid, on a dolphin's back, 

Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath, 

That the rude sea grew civil at her song ; 

And certain stars shot madly from their spheres, 

To hear the sea-maid's musick. 

Puck. I remember. 

Obe. That very time I saw, (but thou 

could' st not,) 
Flying between the cold moon and the earth, 
Cupid all arm'd : a certain aim he took 
At a fair vestal, throned by the west ; 
And loos' d his love-shaft smartly from his bow, 
As it should pierce a hundred thousand hearts : 
But I might see young Cupid's fiery shaft 
Quench' d in the chaste beams of the wat'ry 

moon; 
And the imperial vot'ress passed on, 
In maiden meditation, fancy-free. 
Yet mark'd I where the bolt of Cupid fell : 
It fell upon a little western flower, — 
Before, milk-white ; now purple with love's 

wound, — 
And maidens call it love-in-idleness. 
Fetch me that flower; the herb I show'd thee 

once ; 
The juice of it on sleeping eye-lids laid, 
Will make or man or woman madly dote 
Upon the next live creature that it sees. 
Fetch me this herb : and be thou here again, 
Ere the leviathan can swim a league. 

Having once this juice, 
I'll watch Titania when she is asleep, 
And drop the liquor of it in her eyes : 
The next thing then she waking looks upon, 



234 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

(Be it on lion, bear, or wolf, or bull, 
On meddling monkey, or on busy ape,) 
She shall pursue it with the soul of love. 
And ere I take this charm off from her sight, 
(As I can take it, with another herb,) 
I'll make her render up her page to me. 

MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM, A. 2, S. 2. 



LOVE'S WISDOM AND PRESCIENCE. 

Lysander. Fair love, you faint with wander- 
ing in the wood ; 

And to speak troth, I have forgot our way ; 
We'll rest us, Hermia, if you think it good, 

And tarry for the comfort of the day. 

Hermia. Be it so, Lysander, find you out a bed, 
For I upon this bank will rest my head. 

Lys. One turf shall serve as pillow for us 
both; 
One heart, one bed, two bosoms and one troth. 

Her. Nay, good Lysander ; for my sake, my 
dear, 
Lie further off yet, do not lie so near. 

Lys. O, take the sense, sweet, of my 
innocence ; 
Love takes the meaning, in love's conference. 
I mean, that my heart unto yours is knit ; 
So that but one heart we can make of it : 
Two bosoms interchained with an oath ; 
So then, two bosoms, and a single troth. 
Then, by your side no bed-room me deny ; 
For, lying so, Hermia, I do not lie. 

Her. Lysander riddles very prettily : — 
Now much beshrew my manners and my pride, 
If Hermia meant to say, Lysander lied. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 235 

But, gentle friend, for love and courtesy 
Lie further off ; in human modesty- 
Such separation, as, may well be said, 
Becomes a virtuous bachelor and a maid : 
So far be distant ; and good night, sweet friend : 
Thy love ne'er alter, till thy sweet life end ! 

Lts. Amen, Amen, to that fair prayer, say I ; 
And then end life, when I end loyalty ! 
Here is my bed : Sleep give thee all his rest ! 

Her. With half that wish the wisher's eyes 
be press' d! 

MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM, A. 2, S. 3. 



MAIDS LIKE NOT MAUDLINS. 

Silytus. Sweet PJiebe, do not scorn me ; do 

not, Phebe : 
Say, that you love me not ; but say not so 
In bitterness : The common executioner, 
"Whose heart the accustom' d sight of death 

makes hard, 
Falls not the axe upon the humbled neck, 
But first begs pardon ; Will you sterner be 
Than he that dies and lives by bloody drops ? 

Enter Eosalikd, Celia, and Cokes - , at a 
distance, 

Phebe. I would not be thy executioner ; 
I fly thee, for I would not injure thee. 
Thou tell'st me, there is murder in mine eye : 
'Tis pretty, sure, and very probable, 
That eyes, — that are the frail'st and softest 

things, 
Who shut their coward gates on atomies, — 
Should be call'd tyrants, butchers, murderers ! 
Now I do frown on thee with all my heart ; 



236 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

And, if mine eyes can wound, now let them kill 

thee; 
Now counterfeit to swoon ; why, now fall down ; 
Or, if thou can'st not, O, for shame, for shame, 
Lie not, to say mine eyes are murderers. 
Now show the wound mine eye hath made in 

thee: 
Scratch thee but with a pin, and there remains 
Some scar of it ; lean but upon a rush, 
The cicatrice and capable impressure 
Thy palm some moment keeps : but now mine 



"Which I have darted at thee, hurt thee not ; 

Nor, I am sure, there is no force in eyes 

That can do hurt. 

Sil. dear Phehe, 

If ever, (as that ever may be near,) 

Tou meet in some fresh cheek the power of fancy, 

Then shall you know the wounds invisible 

That love's keen arrows make. 

Phe, But, till that time 

Come not thou near me : and, when that time 
comes, 

Afflict me with thy mocks, pity me not ; 

As, till that time, I shall not pity thee. 

Rosalind. And why, I pray you? [Ad- 
vancing. ~\ "Who might be your mother, 

That you insult, exult, and all at once, 

Over the wretched? "What though you have 
more beauty, 

(As, by my faith, I see no more in you 

Than without candle may go dark to bed,) 

Must you be therefore proud and pitiless ? 

Why, what means this ? Why do you look on me ? 

I see no more in you, than in the ordinary 

Of nature's sale-work : — Od's my little life ! 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 2 3 7 

I think, she means to tangle my eyes too : — 
No, 'faith, proud mistress, hope not after it ; 
'Tis not your inky brows, your black silk hair, 
Tour bugle eye-balls, nor your cheek of cream, 
That can entame my spirits to your worship. — 
Tou foolish shepherd, wherefore do you follow her, 
Like foggy south, puffing with wind and rain ? 
Tou are a thousand times a properer man, 
Than she a woman : 'Tis such fools as you, 
That make the world full of ill-favour' d children : 
'Tis not her glass, but you, that natters her ; 
And out of you she sees herself more proper, 
Than any of her lineaments can show her ; — 
But, mistress, know yourself; down on your 

knees, 
And thank heaven, fasting, for a good man's love : 
For I must tell you friendly in your ear, — 
Sell when you can ; you are not for all markets : 
Cry the man mercy ; love him ; take his offer : 
Foul is most foul, being foul to be a scoffer. 
So, take her to thee, shepherd ; — fare you well. 

Phe. Sweet youth, I pray you chide a year 
together ; 
I had rather hear you chide, than this man woo. 

Bos. He's fallen in love with her foulness, 
and she'll fall in love with my anger : If it be 
so, as fast as she answers thee with frowning 
looks, I'll sauce her with bitter words. — Why 
look you so upon me ? 

Phe. For no ill will I bear you. 

Eos. I pray you, do not fall in love with me, 
Por I am falser than vows made in wine : 
Besides, I like you not : If you will know my 

house, 
'Tis at the tuft of olives, here hard by : — 
"Will you go, sister ? — Shepherd, ply her hard : — 



23 8 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Come, sister : — Shepherdess, look on him better, 
And be not proud; though all the world could see, 
None could be so abus'd in sight as he. 
Come, to our flock. 

\Exeunt Bosalind, Celia, and Coeik. 

Phe. Dead shepherd! now I find thy saw 
of might ; 
Who ever lov'd, that lov'd not atjirst sight ? 

Sil. Sweet Phebe, — 

Phe. Ha! what say'st thou, Silvius? 

Sil. Sweet Phebe, pity me. 

Phe. Why, I am sorry for thee, gentle Silvius. 

Sil. "Wherever sorrow is, relief would be ; 
If you do sorrow at my grief in love, 
By giving love, your sorrow and my grief 
Were both extermin'd. 

Phe. Thou hast my love; is not that 
neighbourly ? 

Sil. I would have you. 

Phe. Why, that were covetousness. 

Silvius, the time was, that I hated thee ; 
And yet it is not, that I bear thee love : 
But since that thou canst talk of love so well, 
Thy company, which erst was irksome to me, 
I will endure ; and I'll employ thee too : 
But do not look for further recompence, 
Than thine own gladness that thou art employ' d. 

Sil. So holy and so perfect is my love, 
And I in such a poverty of grace, 
That I shall think it a most plenteous crop 
To glean the broken ears after the man 
That the main harvest reaps : loose now and then 
A scatter'd smile, and that I'll live upon. 

Phe. Know'st thou the youth that spoke to 
me ere while ? 

Sil. Not very well, but I have met him oft ; 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 239 

And he hath bought the cottage, and the bounds, 
That the old carlot once was master of. 

Phe. Think not I love him, though I ask 

for him ; 
'Tis but a peevish boy : — yet he talks well ; — 
But what care I for words ? yet words do well, 
"When he that speaks them pleases those that 

hear. 
It is a pretty youth : — not very pretty : — 
But sure he's proud ; and yet his pride becomes 

him: 
He'll make a proper man: The best thing in 

him 
Is his complexion ; and faster than his tongue 
Did make offence, his eye did heal it up. 
He is not tall ; yet for his years he's tall : 
His leg is but so so ; and yet 'tis well : 
There was a pretty redness in his lip ; 
A little riper and more lusty red, 
Than that mix'd in his cheek ; 'twas just the 

difference 
Betwixt the constant red, and mingled damask. 
There be somewomen, Silvius,h&&. they mark' dhim 
In parcels as I did, would have gone near 
To fall in love with him : but, for my part, 
I love him not, nor hate him not ; and yet 
I have more cause to hate him than to love him : 
For what had he to do to chide at me ? 
He said, mine eyes were black, and my hair 

black ; 
And, now I am remember' d, scorn' d at me ; 
I marvel, why I answer' d not again : 
But that's all one ; omittance is no quittance. 
I'll write to him a very taunting letter, 
And thou shalt bear it ; Wilt thou, Silvius ? 
Sil. Phebe, with all my heart. 



240 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Phe. I'll write it straight ; 

The matter's in my head, and in my heart : 
I will be bitter with him, and passing short : 
Go with me, Silvius. 

AS YOU LIKE IT, A. 3, S. 5. 



MAN IS MORE OFTEN TO BE FEARED 
THAN GOD. 

Hast thou that holy feeling in thy soul, 
To counsel me to make my peace with Grod, 
And art thou yet to thy own soul so blind, 
Thou thou wilt war with Grod, by murdering 

me ? — 
Ah, sirs, consider, he, that set you on 
To do this deed, will hate you for the deed. 
Not to relent, is beastly, savage, devilish. — 
Which of you, if you were a prince's son, 
Being pent from liberty, as I am now, — 
If such two murderers as yourselves came to 

you — 
"Would not entreat for life ? — 
My friend, I spy some pity in thy looks ; 
O, if thine eye be not a flatterer, 
Come thou on my side, and entreat for me, 
As you would beg, were you in my distress. 
A begging prince what beggar pities not ? 

K. RICHARD III., A. 1, S. 4. 



MANNERS MAKE OR UNMAKE. 
Hear thee, Gratiano ; 
Thou art too wild, too rude, and bold of voice ; — 
Parts, that become thee happily enough, 
And in such eyes as ours appear not faults ; 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 24 1 

But where thou art not known, why, there they 

show 
Something too liberal : — pray thee take pain 
To allay with some cold drops of modesty 
Thy skipping spirit ; lest, through thy wild 

behaviour, 
I be misconstrued in the place I go to, 
And lose my hopes. 

MERCHANT OF VENICE, A. 2, S. 2. 



MARRIAGE CONSTANCY. 

How ill agrees it with your gravity, 
To counterfeit thus grossly with your slave, 
Abetting him to thwart me in my mood ? 
Be it my wrong, you are from me exempt, 
But wrong not that wrong with a more contempt. 
Come, I will fasten on this sleeve of thine : 
Thou art an elm, my husband, I, a vine ; 
Whose weakness, married to thy stronger state, 
Makes me with thy strength to communicate : 
If ought possess thee from me, it is dross, 
Usurping ivy, briar, or idle moss ; 
Who, all for want of pruning, with intrusion 
Infect thy sap, and live on thy confusion. 

COMEDY OP ERRORS, A. 2, S. 2. 



MATERIALS OF WAR IN THE 
MIDDLE AGES. 

Turn* your forces from this paltry siege, 
And stir them up against a mightier task. 
England, impatient of your just demands, 
Hath put himself in arms ; the adverse winds, 
Whose leisure I have staid, have given him time 



242 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

To land his legions all as soon as I : 
His marches are expedient to this town, 
His forces strong, his soldiers confident. 
With him along is come the mother-queen, 
An Ate, stirring him to blood and strife ; 
With her, her niece, the lady Blanch of Spain; 
With them a bastard of the king deceased : 
And all the unsettled humours of the land, — 
Rash, inconsiderate, fiery, voluntaries, 
With ladies' faces, and fierce dragons' spleens, — 
Have sold their fortunes at their native homes, 
Bearing their birthrights proudly on their backs, 
To ma^e a hazard of new fortunes here. 
In brief, a braver choice of dauntless spirits, 
Than now the English bottoms have waft o'er, 
Did never float upon the swelling tide, 
To do offence and scath in Christendom. 
The interruption of their churlish drums 
Cuts off more circumstance : they are at hand, 
To parley, or to fight ; therefore, prepare. 

KING JOHN, A. 2, S. 1. 



MEETING OF THE AFFECTIONS. 

But, O, the noble combat, that, 'twixt joy 
and sorrow, was fought in Paulina! She had 
one eye declined for the loss of her husband; 
another elevated that the oracle was fulfilled: 
She lifted the princess from the earth ; and so 
locks her in embracing, as if she would pin her 
to her heart, that she might no more be in 
danger of losing. 

One of the prettiest touches of all, and that 
which angled for mine eyes (caught the water, 
though not the fish,) was, when at the relation of 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 243 

the queen's death, with the manner how she came 
to it, (bravely confessed, and lamented by the 
king,) how attentiveness wounded his daughter ; 
till, from one side of dolour to another, she did, 
with an alas! I would fain say, bleed tears; 
for, I am sure, my heart wept blood. Who 
was most marble there, changed colour; some 
swooned, all sorrowed: if all the world could 
have seen it, the woe had been universal. 

winter's tale, a. 5, s. 2. 



MEETING OF THE SYMPATHIES. 

Portia. I pray you, tarry ; pause a day or 
two, 
Before you hazard ; for, in choosing wrong, 
I lose your company ; therefore, forbear a while: 
There's sometlring tells me, (but it is not love,) 
I would not lose you ; and you know yourself, 
Hate counsels not in such a quality : 
But lest you should not understand me well, 
(And yet a maiden hath no tongue but thought,) 
I would detain you here some month or two, 
Before you venture for me. I could teach you, 
How to choose right, but then I am forsworn ; 
So will I never be : so may you miss me ; 
But if you do, you'll make me wish a sin, 
That I had been forsworn. Beshrew your eyes, 
They have a'er-look'd me, and divided me ; 

One half of me is yours, the other half yours, 

Mine own, I would say ; but if mine, then yours, 
And so all yours : ! these naughty times 
Put bars between the owners and their rights ; 
And so, though yours, not yours. — Prove it so, 
Let fortune bear the blame of it, — not I. 



24+ THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

I speak too long ; but 'tis to delay the time ; 
To eke it, and to draw it out in length, 
To stay you from election. 

Bassanio. Let me choose ; 

Tor, as I am, I live upon the rack. 

Poe. Upon the rack, Basscmio ? then confess 
What treason there is mingled with your love. 

Bass. None, but that ugly treason of mistrust, 
"Which makes me fear the enjoying of my love : 
There may as well be amity and life 
'Tween snow and fire, as treason and my love. 

Poe. Ay, but I fear, you speak upon the 
rack, 
"Where men enforced do speak anything. 

Bass. Promise me life, and I'll confess the 
truth. 

Poe. Well then, confess and live. 

Bass. Confess and love, 

Had been the very sum of my confession : 
O happy torment, when my torturer 
Doth teach me answers for deliverance ! 
But let me to my fortune and the caskets. 

Poe. Away then: I am lock'd in one of 
them ; 
If you do love me, you will find me out. — 
Nerissa, and the rest, stand all aloof. — 
Let musick sound, while he doth make his choice; 
Then, if he lose, he makes a swan-like end, 
Fading in musick : that the comparison 
May stand more proper, my eye shall be the 

stream, 
And wat'ry death-bed for him : He may win ; 
And what is musick then ? then musick is 
Even as the flourish when true subjects bow 
To a new-crown' d monarch : such it is, 
As are those dulcet sounds in break of day, 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE, 245 

That creep into the dreaming bridegroom's ear, 

And summon him to marriage. 

With no less presence, but with much more 

love, 
Than young Alcides, when he did redeem 
The virgin tribute paid by howling Troy 
To the sea-monster : I stand for sacrifice, 
The rest aloof are the Dardanian wives, 
With bleared visages, come forth to view 
The issue of the exploit. Go, Hercules! 
Live thou, I live : With much , much more dismay 
I view the fight, than thou that mak'st the fray. 

MERCHANT OF VENICE, A. 3, S. 2. 



MEN IN HIGH POSITION ARE 
OBLIGED TO ASSUME MANNERS 
OFTEN FOREIGN TO THEIR DIS- 
POSITION. 

Norfolk:. All this was order' d by the good 

discretion 
Of the right reverend cardinal of York. 
Buckingham. The devil speed him ! no man's 

pie is free'd 
From his ambitious finger. What had he 
To do in these fierce vanities ? I wonder, 
That such a keech, can with his very bulk 
Take up the rays o'the beneficial sun, 
And keep it from the earth. 

Nob. Surely, sir, 

There's in him stuff that puts him to these ends: 
For, being not propp'd by ancestry, (whose 

grace 
Chalks successors their way,) nor call'd upon 



246 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Tor high feats done to the crown ; neither allied 
To eminent assistants, but, spider-like, 
Out of his self-drawing web, he gives us note, 
The force of his own merit makes his way ; 
A gift that heaven gives for him, which buys 
A place next to the king. 

Abee-corn. I cannot tell 

"What heaven hath given him, let some graver 

eye 
Pierce into that ; but I can see his pride 
Peep through each part of him : Whence has he 

that? 
If not from hell, the devil is a niggard ; 
Or has given all before, and he begins 
A new hell in himself. 

K. HENRY VIII., A. 1, S. 1. 



MENTAL ANGUISH. 

T'is now the very witching time of night ; 
When churchyards yawn, and hell itself breathes 

out 
Contagion to this world : Now could I drink hot 

blood, 
And do such business as the bitter day 
Would quake to look on. Soft ; now to my 

mother. — 
O, heart, lose not thy nature ; let not ever 
The soul of Nero enter this firm bosom : 
Let me be cruel, not unnatural : 
I will speak daggers to her, but use none ; 
My tongue and soul in this be hypocrites : 
How in my words soever she be shent, 
To give them seals never, my soul, consent ! 

HAMLET, A. 3, S. 2. 



WILLIAM SSAKESPUABU. 247 

MENTAL AGONY. 

Had it pleas' d heaven 
To try me with affliction ; had he rain'd 
All kinds of sores, and shames, on my bare head; 
Steep' d me in poverty to the very lips ; 
Given to captivity me and my utmost hopes ; 
I should have found in some part of my soul 
A drop of patience : but (alas !) to make me 
A fixed figure, for the time of scorn 
To point his slow unmoving finger at, — 
O! O! 

Tet could I bear that too ; well, very well : 
But there, where I have garner' d up my heart ; 
"Where either I must live, or bear no life ; 
The fountain from the which my current runs, 
Or else dries up ; to be discarded thence ! 
Or keep it as a cistern, for foul toads 
To knot and gender in ! — turn thy complexion 

there ! 
Patience, thou young and rose-lipp'd cherubin ; 
Ay, there, look grim as hell ! 

OTHELLO, A. 4, S. 2. 



MERCY NOBILITY'S TRUE BADGE. 

Stat, Roman brethren ; — Gracious conqueror, 
Victorious Titus, rue the tears I shed, 
A mother's tears in passion for her son : 
And, if thy sons were ever dear to thee, 
O, think my son to be as dear to me. 
Sufficeth not, that we are brought to Home, 
To beautify thy triumphs, and return, 
Captive to thee, and to thy Roman yoke ; 
But must my sons be slaughter' d in the streets, 
For valiant doings in their country's cause ? 



248 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

O ! if to fight for king and common weal 
Were piety in thine, it is in these. 
Andronicus, stain not thy tomb with blood : 
Wilt thou draw near the nature of the gods ? 
Draw near them then in being merciful : 
Sweet mercy is nobility's true badge ; 
Thrice-noble Titus, spare my first-born son. 

TITUS ANDRONICUS, A. 1, S. 2. 



MINCE NOT THE TRUTH. 

Speak to me home, mince not the general tongue; 

Name Cleopatra as she's called in Borne : 

Kail thou in Fulvia's phrase; and taunt my 

faults 
With such full license, as both truth and malice 
Have power to utter. O, then we bring forth 

weeds, 
When our quick winds lie still; and our ills 

told us, 
Is as our earing. 

ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA, A. 1, S. 2. 



MIND IN MANNER 

'Tis he, I ken the manner of his gait ; 
He rises on the toe : that spirit of his 
In aspiration lifts him from the earth. 

TROILUS AND CRESSIDA, A. 4,8. 5. 



MIND IN VOICE. 

The shepherd knows not thunder from a tabor, 
More than I know the sound of Martins' tongue 
Prom every meaner man's. 



CORIOLANUS, A. 1, S. 6. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 249 

MIND, LIKE MATTER, EVER 

HEAVING. 

Equality of two domestick powers 

Breeds scrupulous faction : The hated, grown to 

strength, 
Are newly grown to love: the condemn' d Pompey, 
Rich in his father's honour, creeps apace 
Into the hearts of such as have not thriv'd 
Upon the present state, whose numbers threaten; 
And quietness, grown sick of rest, would purge 
By any desperate change. 

ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA, A. 1, S. 3. 



MIND SHOULD ASSIMILATE BEFORE 

MATTER. 

King. 'Tis only title thou disdain' st in her, 
the which 
I can build up. Strange is it, that our bloods, 
Of colour, weight, and heat, pour'd all together, 
"Would quite confound distinction, yet stand off 
In differences so mighty : If she be 
All that is virtuous, (save what thou dislik'st, 
A poor physician's daughter,) thou dislik'st 
Of virtue for the name : but do not so : 
Erom lowest place when virtuous things proceed, 
The place is dignified by the doer's deed : 
"Where great additions swell, and virtue none, 
It is a dropsied honour : good alone 
Is good without a name ; vileness is so : 
The property by what it is should go, 
Not by the title. She is young, wise, fair ; 
In these to nature she's immediate heir : 



250 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

And these breed honour : that is honour's scorn, 
"Which challenges itself as honour's born, 
And is not like the sire : Honours best thrive, 
"When rather from our acts we them derive 
Than our fore-goers : the mere word's a slave, 
Debauch' d on every tomb ; on every grave, 
A lying trophy, and as oft is dumb, 
"Where dust, and damn'd oblivion, is the tomb 
Of honour' d bones indeed. What should be said? 
If thou canst like this creature as a maid, 
I can create the rest : virtue, and she, 
Is her own dower ; honour, and wealth, from me. 
Bertram. I cannot love her, nor will strive 

to do't. 
King. Thou wrong'st thyself, if thou should' st 

strive to choose. 
Helena. That you are well restor'd, my lord, 

I am glad ; 
Let the rest go. 

King. My honour's at the stake ; which to 

defeat, 
I must produce my power : Here, take her hand, 
Proud scornful boy, unworthy this good gift, 
That dost in vile misprision shackle up 
My love, and her desert ; that canst not dream, 
We, poizing us in her defective scale, 
Shall weigh thee to the beam; that wilt not 

know, 
It is in us to plant thine honour, where 
We please to have it grow: Check thy contempt: 
Obey our will, which travails in thy good : 
Believe not thy disdain, but presently 
Do thine own fortunes that obedient right, 
Which both thy duty owes, and our power 

claims ; 
Or I will throw thee from my care for ever, 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 251 

Into the staggers, and the careless lapse 

Of youth and ignorance ; both my revenge and 

hate, 
Loosing upon thee in the name of justice, 
Without all terms of pity: Speak! thine answer! 

Bee. Pardon, my gracious lord ; for I submit 
My fancy to your eyes : When I consider, 
What great creation, and what dole of honour, 
Flies where you bid it, I find, that she, which 

late 
Was in my nobler thoughts most base, is now 
The praised of the king ; who, so ennobled, 
Is, as 'twere, born so. 

King. Take her by the hand, 

And tell her, she is thine : to whom I promise 
A counterpoize ; if not to thy estate, 
A balance more replete. 

Bee. I take her hand. 

King. Good fortune, and the favour of the 

Smile upon this contract ; whose ceremony 
Shall seem expedient on the now-borne brief, 
And be perform' d to-night : the solemn feast 
Shall more attend upon the coming space, 
Expecting absent friends. As thou lov'st her, 
Thy love's to me religious ; else, does err. 

all's well that ends well, a. 2, s. 3. 



MISFORTUNE OF TRUE LOVE. 

Ceessid, I love thee in so strain' d a purity, 
That the blest gods — as angry with my fancy, 
More bright in zeal than the devotion which 
Cold lips blow to their deities, — take thee from 
me. 



252 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

And suddenly ; where injury of chance 
Puts back leave-taking, justles roughly by 
All time of pause, rudely beguiles our lips 
Of all rejoindure, forcibly prevents 
Our lock'd embrasures, strangles our dear vows 
Even in the birth of our own labouring breath : 
We two, that with so many thousand sighs 
Did buy each other, must poorly sell ourselves 
"With the rude brevity and discharge of one. 
Injurious time now, with a robber's haste, 
Crams his rich thievery up, he knows not how : 
As many farewells as be stars in heaven, 
"With distinct breath and consign' d kisses to 

them, 
He fumbles up into a loose adieu ; 
And scants us with a single famish'd kiss, 
Distasted with the salt of broken tears. 

TROILUS AND CRESSIDA, A. 4, S. 4 



MISFORTUNE OF THE TRULY 
GOOD. 

'Tis pity, bounty had not eyes behind ; 

That man might ne'er be wretched for his mind. 

TIMON OF ATHENS, A. 1, S. 2. 



MORAL POWER OVERCOMING 
PASSION. 

Peteuchio. I will attend her here, 
And woo her with some spirit when she comes. 
Say, that she rail ; Why, then I'll tell her plain, 
She sings as sweetly as a nightingale : 
Say, that she frown ; I'll say, she looks as clear 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEABM 253 

As morning roses newly wash'd with dew : 
Say, she be mute, and will not speak a word ; 
Then I'll commend her volubility, 
And say — she uttereth piercing eloquence : 
If she do bid me pack, I'll give her thanks, 
As though she bid me stay by her a week : 
If she deny to wed, I'll crave the day 
When I shall ask the banns, and when be 

married : — 
But here she comes ; and now, Petruchio, speak. 

Enter Kathakina. 

Good-morrow, Kate; for that's your name, I 
hear. 
Katharina. "Well have you heard, but 
something hard of hearing ; 
They call me — Katharine, that do talk of me. 
Pet. You lie, in faith; for you are call'd 
plain Kate, 
And bonny Kate, and sometimes Kate the curst ; 
But Kate, the prettiest Kate in Christendom, 
Kate of Kate-Hall, my super-dainty Kate, 
For dainties are all cates ; and therefore, Kate, 
Take this of me, Kate of my consolation ; 
Hearing thy mildness prais'd in every town, 
Thy virtues spoke of, and thy beauty sounded, 
(Tet not so deeply as to thee belongs,) 
Myself am mov'd to woo thee for my wife. 
Kath. Mov'd! in good time: let him that 
mov'd you hither, 
Remove you hence : I knew you at the first, 
Tou were a moveable. 

Pet. Good Kate ; I am a gentleman. 
Kath. That I'll try. 

[Striking him. 
Pet. I swear I'll cuff you, if you strike again. 



254 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Kath. So may you lose your arms : 
If you strike me, you are no gentleman ; 
And if no gentleman, why, then no arms. 

Pet. A herald, Kate ? O, put me in thy 

books. 
Kath. What is your crest ? a coxcomb ? 
Pet. Now, by Saint George, I am too young 

for you. 
Kath. Tet you are wither'd. 
Pet. 'Tis with cares. 

Kath. I care not. 

Pet. Nay, hear you, Kate: in sooth, you 

'scape not so. 
Kath. I chafe you, if I tarry ; let me go. 
Pet. No, not a whit; I find you passing 
gentle. 
'Twas told me, you were rough, and coy, and 

sullen, 
And now I find report a very liar ; 
Por thou art pleasant, gamesome, passing cour- 
teous, 
But slow in speech, yet sweet as spring-time 

flowers. 
Thou canst not frown, thou canst not look 

askance, 
Nor bite the lip, as angry wenches will ; 
Nor hast thou pleasure to be cross in talk ; 
But thou with mildness entertain' st thy wooers, 
With gentle conference, soft and affable. 
Why does the world report, that Kate doth limp ? 
slanderous world ! Kate, like the hazle-twig, 
Is straight, and slender ; and as brown in hue, 
As hazle-nuts, and sweeter than the kernels. 
O, let me see thee walk : thou dost not halt. 
Kath. G-o, fool, and whom thou keep'st 
command. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 255 

Pet. Did ever Dion so become a grove, 
As Kate this chamber with her princely gait ? 
O, be thou Dian, and let her be Kate ; 
And then let Kate be chaste, and Dian sportful. 
Kath. Where did you study all this goodly 

speech ? 
Pet. It is extempore, from my mother-wit. 
And therefore, setting all this chat aside, 
Thus in plain terms: — Tour father hath con- 
sented 
That you shall be my wife ; your dowry 'greed 

on; 
And, will you, nill you, I will marry you. 
Now, Kate, I am a husband for your turn ; 
Por, by this light, whereby I see thy beauty, 
(Thy beauty that doth make me like thee well,) 
Thou must be married to no man but me ; 
Por I am he, am born to tame you, Kate ; 
And bring you from a wild cat to a Kate 
Conformable, as other household Kates. 
Here comes your father ; never make denial, 
I must and will have Katharine to my wife. 
He-enter Baptista, Q-bemio, and Tranio. 
Baptista. Now, 
Signior Petruchio : How speed you with 
My daughter ? 

Pet. How but well, sir ? how but well ? 
It were impossible, I should speed amiss. 

Bap. Why, how now, daughter Katharine? 

in your dumps ? 
Kath. Call you me, daughter ? now I pro- 
mise you, 
Tou have show'd a tender fatherly regard, 
To wish me wed to one half lunatick ; 
A mad-cap ruffian, and a swearing Jack, 
That thinks with oaths to face the matter out. 



256 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Pet. Father, 'tis thus, — yourself and all the 
world, 
That talk'd of her, have talk'd amiss of her ; 
If she be curst, it is for policy : 
For she's not fro ward, but modest as the dove ; 
She is not hot, but temperate as the morn ; 
For patience she will prove a second Grissel ; 
And Eoman Lucrece for her chastity : 
And to conclude, — we have 'greed so well to- 
gether, 
That upon Sunday is the wedding-day. 

Kath. I'll see thee hang'd on Sunday first. 

Gtkemio. Hark, Petruchio! she says, she'll 
see thee hang'd first. 

Pet. Be patient, gentlemen; I choose her 
for myself; 
If she and I be pleas' d, what's that to you ? 
'Tis bargain'd 'twixt us twain, being alone, 
That she shall still be curst in company. 
I tell you, 'tis incredible to believe 
How much she loves me : O, the kindest Kate! — 
She hung about my neck ; and kiss on kiss 
She vied so fast, protesting oath on oath, 
That in a twink she won me to her love. 
0, you are novices ! 'tis a world to see, 
How tame, when men and women are alone, 
A meacock wretch can make the curstest shrew. — 
Give me thy hand, Kate : I will unto Venice, 
To buy apparel 'gainst the wedding-day : — 
Provide the feast, father, and bid the guests ; 
I will be sure, my Katharine shall be fine. 

Bap. I know not what to say : but give me 
your hands ; 
God send you joy, Petruchio ! 'tis a match. 

G-kemio and Teanio. Amen, say we ; we will 
be witnesses. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEABE. 257 

Pet. Father, and wife, and gentlemen, adieu; 

I will to Venice, Sunday conies apace : 

We will have rings, and things, and fine array ; 
And kiss me, Kate, we will be married o> Sunday. 

TAMIXG OF THE SHEEW, A. 2, S. 1. 



MODESTY OF THE HERO. 

Peat now, no more : my mother, 
Who has a charter to extol her blood, 
"When she does praise me, grieves me. I have 

done, 
As yon have done : that's what I can ; indue' d 
As you have been ; that's for my country : 
He, that has but effected his good will, 
Hath overta'en mine act. 

CORIOLANUS, A. 1, S. 9. 



MURDER OF THE INNOCENT. 

K. Jokn". Come hither, Hubert. my 

gentle Hubert, 
We owe thee much ; within this wall of flesh 
There is a soul, counts thee her creditor, 
And with advantage means to pay thy love : 
And, my good friend, thy voluntary oath 
Lives in this bosom, dearly cherished. 
Grive me thy hand. I had a thing to say, — 
But I will fit it with some better time. 
By heaven, Hubert, I am almost asham'd 
To say what good respect I have of thee. 
Hub. I am much bounden to your majesty. 
K. Johx. Good friend, thou hast no cause 

to say so yet : 
But thou shalt have: and creep time ne'er so 

slow, 



258 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Yet it shall come, for me to do thee good. 

I had a thing to say, — But let it go : 

The sun is in the heaven, and the proud day, 

Attended with the pleasures of the world, 

Is all too wanton, and too full of gawds, 

To give me audience : — If the midnight bell 

Did, with his iron tongue and brazen mouth, 

Sound one unto the drowsy race of night ; 

If this same were a church-yard where we stand, 

And thou possessed with a thousand wrongs ; 

Or if that surly spirit, melancholy, 

Had back'd thy blood, and made it heavy, thick ; 

(Which, else, runs tickling up and down the 

veins, 
Making that idiot, laughter, keep men's eyes, 
And strain their cheeks to idle merriment, 
A passion hateful to my purposes ;) 
Or if that thou could' st see me without eyes, 
Hear me without thine ears, and make reply 
Without a tongue, using conceit alone, 
Without eyes, ears, and harmful sound of words ; 
Then, in despite of brooded watchful day, 
I would into thy bosom pour my thoughts : 
But ah, I will not : — Tet I love thee well ; 
And, by my troth, I think, thou lov'st me well. 

Hub. So well, that what you bid me under- 
take, 
Though that my death were adjunct to my act, 
By heaven, I'd do it. 

K. John. Do not I know, thou would' st ? 
Good Hubert, Hubert, Hubert, throw thine eye 
On yon young boy; I'll tell thee what, my friend, 
He is a very serpent in my way ; 
And, wheresoe'er this foot of mine doth tread, 
He lies before me : Dost thou understand me ? 
Thou art his keeper. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 259 

Hub. And I will keep him so, 

That he shall not offend your majesty. 

K. John. Death. 

Hub. My lord? 

K. John. A grave. 

Hub. He shall not live. 

K. John. Enough. 

I could be merry now : Hubert, I love thee. — 
"Well, I'll not say what I intend for thee : 
Remember. 

KING JOHN, A. 3, S. 3. 



MUSIC AND ITS QUALITIES. 

Mariana. Break off thy song, and haste 
thee quick away ; 
Here comes a man of comfort, whose advice 
Hath often still' d my brawling discontent. — 

[Exit Boy. 
Enter Duke. 
I cry you mercy, sir ; and well could wish 
Tou had not found me here so musical : 
Let me excuse me, and believe me so, — 
My mirth it much displeas'd, but pleas' d my woe. 
Duke. 'Tis good: though musick oft hath 
such a charm, 
To make bad good, and good provoke to harm. 

MEASURE FOR MEASURE, A. 4, S. 1. 



MUSIC THE TOUCHSTONE OF 
THE SOUL. 

If musick be the food of love, play on, 
Give me excess of it ; that, surfeiting, 
The appetite may sicken, and so die. 



260 THJE PHILOSOPHY OF 

That strain again ; — it had a dying fall : 
0, it came o'er my ear like the sweet south, 
That breathes upon a bank of violets, 
Stealing, and giving odour. 

TWELFTH NIGHT, A. 1, S. 1. 



EXPERIENCE MUST BE BOUGHT. 

No care, no stop ! so senseless of expence, 

That he will neither know how to maintain it, 

Nor cease his flow of riot : Takes no account 

How things go from him ; nor resumes no care 

Oi what is to continue : Never mind 

"Was to be so unwise, to be so kind. 

What shall be done ? He will not hear, till 

feel: 
I must be round with him, now he comes from 

hunting. 
Eye, fye, fye, fye ! 

TIMON OF ATHENS, A. 2, S. 2. 



MYSTERY OF THE HUMOURS. 

In sooth, I know not why I am so sad ; 
It wearies me ; you say, it wearies you ; 
But how I caught it, found it, or came by it, 
What stuff 'tis made of, whereof it is born, 
I am to learn ; 

And such a want-wit sadness makes of me, 
That I have much ado to know myself. 

MERCHANT OF VENICE, A. 1, S. 1. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 26 1 



NATURE COLLAPSING. 

Is this a dagger, which I see before me, 

The handle toward my hand? Come, let me 

clutch thee : 

I have thee not, and yet I see thee still. 

Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible 

To feeling, as to sight ? or art thou but 

A dagger of the mind ; a false creation, 

Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain ? 

I see thee yet, in form as palpable 

As this which now I draw. 

Thou marshal' st me the way that I was going, 

And such an instrument I was to use. 

Mine eyes are made the fools o'the other senses, 

Or else worth all the rest : I see thee still ; 

And on thy blade, and dudgeon, gouts of blood, 

Which was not so before. — There's no such 

thing : 
It is the bloody business, which informs 
Thus to m*ine eyes. — Now o'er the one half 

world 
Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse 
The curtain' d sleep ; now witchcraft celebrates 
Pale Hecate's offering ; and wither' d murder, 
Alarum' d by his sentinel, the wolf, 
Whose howl's his watch, thus with his stealthy 

pace, 
With Tar quints ravishing strides, towards his 

design 
Moves like a ghost. Thou sure and firm-set 

earth, 
Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for 

fear 
Thy very stones prate of my where-about, 
And take the present horror from the time, 



262 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

♦ 

"Which now suits with it. — Whiles I threat, he 

lives ; 
Words to the heat of deeds too cold breath gives. 

\A hell rings, 
I go, and it is done ; the bell invites me. 
Hear it not, Duncan ; for it is a knell 
That summons thee to heaven, or to hell. 

MACBETH, A. 2, S. 1. 



NATURE GOVERNED BY GOD'S RE- 
PRESENTATIVE ON EARTH. 

Ye elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes, and 

groves ; 
And ye, that on the sands with printless foot 
Do chase the ebbing Neptune, and do fly him, 
When he comes back ; you demy-puppets, that 
By moon-shine do the green-sour ringlets make, 
Whereof the ewe not bites; and you, whose 

pastime 
Is to make midnight-mushrooms ; that rejoice 
To hear the solemn curfew ; by whose aid 
(Weak masters though ye be,) I have be-dimm'd 
The noon-tide sun, call'd forth the mutinous 

winds, 
And 'twixt the green sea and the azur'd vault 
Set roaring war : to the dread rattling thunder 
Have I given fire, and rifted Jove's stout oak 
With his own bolt : the strong-bas'd promontory 
Have I made shake ; and by the spurs pluck' d up 
The pine and cedar : graves, at my command, 
Have waked their sleepers ; oped, and let them 

forth 
By my so potent art : But this rough magick 
I here abjure : and, when I have requir'd 
Some heavenly musick, (which even now I do,) 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 263 

To work mine end upon their senses, that 
This airy charm is for, I'll break my staff, 
Bury it certain fathoms in the earth, 
And deeper than did ever plummet sound, 
I'll drown my book. 

TEMPEST, A. b, S. 1. 



NATURE IN ANTAGONISM TO 
PASSION. 

Httbebt. My lord, they say, five moons were 

seen to-night : 
Four fixed ; and the fifth did whirl about 
The other four, in wond'rous motion. 
K. Job:]*. Five moons ? 
Hub. Old men, and beldams, in the streets 
Do prophesy upon it dangerously : 
Young Arthur's death is common in their mouths : 
And when they talk of him, they shake their 

heads, 
And whisper one another in the ear ; 
And he, that speaks, doth gripe the hearer's 

wrist ; 
"Whilst he, that hears, makes fearful action, 
With wrinkled brows, with nods, with rolling 

eyes. 
I saw a smith stand with his hammer, thus, 
The whilst his iron did on the anvil cool, 
With open mouth swallowing a tailor's news ; 
Who, with his shears and measure in his hand, 
Standing on slippers, (which his nimble haste 
Had falsely thrust upon contrary feet,) 
Told of a many thousand warlike French, 
That were embattled and rank'd in Kent: 
Another lean unwash'd artificer 
Cuts off his tale, and talks of Arthur's death. 



264 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

K. John. "Why seek'st thou to possess me 

with these fears ? 
"Why urgest thou so oft young Arthur's death ? 
Thy hand hath murder 5 d him: I had mighty 

cause 
To wish him dead, but thou had'st none to kill 

him. 
Hub. Had none, my lord ! why, did you not 

provoke me ? 
K. John. It is the curse of kings, to be 

attended 
By slaves, that take their humours for a warrant 
To break within the bloody house of life : 
And, on the winking of authority, 
To understand a law ; to know the meaning 
Of dangerous majesty, when, perchance, it frowns 
More upon humour than advis'd respect. 

Hub. Here is your hand and seal for what I 

did. 
K. John. O, when the last account 'twixt 

heaven and earth 
Is to be made, then shall this hand and seal 
Witness against us to damnation ! 
How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds, 
Makes deeds ill done! Had'st not thou been 

A fellow by the hand of nature mark'd, 
Quoted, and sign'd to do a deed of shame, 
This murder had not come into my mind : 
But, taking note of thy abhorr'd aspect, 
Finding thee fit for bloody villainy, 
Apt, liable, to be employ' d in danger, 
I faintly broke with thee of Arthur's death ; 
And thou, to be endeared to a king, 
Made it no conscience to destroy a prince. 
Hub. My lord, 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 265 

K. Johk. Hadst thou but shook thy head, or 

made a pause, 
"When I spake darkly what I purposed ; 
Or turn'd an eye of doubt upon my face, 
As bid me tell my tale in express words ; 
Deep shame had struck me dumb, made me 

break off, 
And those thy fears might have wrought fears in 

me: 
But thou didst understand me by my signs, 
And didst in signs again parley with sin ; 
Tea, without stop, didst let thy heart consent, 
And, consequently, thy rude hand to act 
The deed, which both our tongues held vile to 

name. — 
Out of my sight, and never see me more ! 
My nobles leave me ; and my state is brav'd, 
Even at my gates, with ranks of foreign powers : 
Nay, in the body of this fleshly land, 
This kingdom, this confine of blood and breath, 
Hostility and civil tumult reigns 
Between my conscience, and my cousin's death. 
Hub. Arm you against your other enemies, 
I'll make a peace between your soul and you. 
Young Arthur is alive : This hand of mine 
Is yet a maiden and an innocent hand, 
Not painted with the crimson spots of blood. 
Within this bosom never enter' d yet 
The dreadful motion of a murd'rous thought, 
And you have slander' d nature in my form; 
"Which howsoever rude exteriorly, 
Is yet the cover of a fairer mind 
Than to be butcher of an innocent child. 

K. John. Doth Arthur live ? O, haste thee 

to the peers, 
Throw this report on their incensed rage, 



266 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

And make them tame to their obedience ! 
Forgive the comment that my passion made 
Upon thy feature ; for my rage was blind, 
And foul imaginary eyes of blood 
Presented thee more hideous than thou art. 
O, answer not ; but to my closet bring 
The angry lords, with all expedient haste : 
I conjure thee but slowly ; run more fast. 

KING JOHN, A. 4, S. 2. 



NATURE OVERFLOWING THE 
HEALTHY DYKES OF ART. 

Natitbe never fram'd a woman's heart 
Of prouder stuff than that of Beatrice : 
Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes, 
Misprising what they look on ; and her wit 
Values itself so highly, that to her 
All matter else seems weak : she cannot love, 
Nor take no shape nor project of affection, 
She is so self-endeared. I never yet saw man, 
How wise, how noble, young, how rarely featur'd, 
But she would spell him backward : if fair-faced, 
She'd swear, the gentleman should be her sister; 
If black, why, nature, drawing of an antick, 
Made a foul blot : if tall, a lance ill-headed ; 
If low, an agate very vilely cut : 
If speaking, why, a vane blown with all winds ; 
If silent, why, a block moved with none. 
So turns she every man the wrong side out ; 
And never gives to truth and virtue, that 
Which simpleness and merit purchaseth. 

MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING, A. 3, S. 1. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 267 



NATUEE POISONED. 

That nature, being sick of man's unkindness, 
Should jet be hungry ! — Common mother, thou, 

"Whose womb unmeasurable, and infinite breast, 
Teems, and feeds all ; whose self-same mettle, 
"Whereof thy proud child, arrogant man, is puff'd, 
Engenders the black toad, and adder blue, 
The gilded newt, and eyeless venom' d worm, 
With all the abhorred births below crisp heaven 
WTiereon Hyperion* s quickening fire doth shine ; 
Yield him, who all thy human sons doth hate, 
Erom forth thy plenteous bosom, one poor root ! 
Ensear thy fertile and conceptions womb, 
Let it no more bring out ingrateful man ! 
Go great with tigers, dragons, wolves, and bears ; 
Teem with new monsters, whom thy upward face 
Hath to the marbled mansion all above 
Never presented ! — O, a root, — Dear thanks ! 
Dry up thy marrows, vines, and plough-torn leas ; 
Whereof ingrateful man, with liquorish draughts, 
And morsels unctuous, greases his pure mind, 
That from it all consideration slips ! 

TIMON OF ATHENS, A. 4, S. 3. 



NATURE'S PROGNOSTICS. 

The night has been unruly : Where we lay, 
Our chimneys were blown down: and, as they 

say, 
Lamentings heard i' the air ; strange screams of 

death ; 
And prophesying, with accents terrible, 
Of dire combustion, and confus'd events, 



268 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

New hatch' d to the woeful time. The obscure 

bird 
Clamour' d the livelong night: some say, the 

earth 
Was feverous, and did shake. 'Twas a rough 

night. 
My young remembrance cannot parallel 
A fellow to it. 

MACBETH, A. 2, S. 3. 



NATURE'S SYMPATHY WITH THE 

MISFORTUNES OF GREATNESS. 

C^sab, I never stood on ceremonies, 

Yet now they fright me. There is one within, 

Besides the things that we have heard and seen, 

Recounts most horrid sights seen by the watch. 

A lioness hath whelped in the streets ; 

And graves have yawn'd, and yielded up their 

dead: 
Fierce fiery warriors fight upon the clouds, 
In ranks, and squadrons, and right form of war, 
Which drizzled blood upon the Cwpitol : 
The noise of battle hurtled in the air, 
Horses did neigh, and dying men did groan ; 
And ghosts did shriek, and squeal about the 

streets. 
O Ccesar ! these things are beyond all use, 
And I do fear them. 

JULIUS CESAR, A. 2, S. 2. 



NATURE'S TIES. 

That drop of blood, that's calm, proclaims me 

bastard ; 
Cries, cuckold, to my father ; brands the harlot 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEABJE. 269 

Even here, between the chaste unsmirched brow 
Of my true mother. 

HAMLET, A. 4, S. 5 



NECESSITY OF THE GOVERNING 
POWERS KEEPING A CONSCIENCE. 

Here is the indictment of the good lord Hastings; 
Which in a set hand fairly is engross' d, 
That it may be to-day read o'er in Paul's. 
And mark how well the sequel hangs together : — 
Eleven hours I have spent to write it over, 
Eor yesternight by Catesby was it sent me ; 
The precedent was full as long a doing : 
And yet within these five hours Hastings liv'd, 
Untainted, unexamin'd, free, at Liberty. 
Here's a good world the while! — Who is so 

gross, 
That cannot see this palpable device ? 
Tet who so bold, but says — he sees it not ? 
Bad is the world ; and all will come to nought, 
When such bad dealing must be seen in thought. 

K. RICHARD III., A. 3, S. 6. 



NEVER LOSE FEAR OF THE 
INVISIBLE. 

They say, miracles are past; and we have 
our philosophical persons, to make modern and 
familiar things, supernatural and causeless. 
Hence is it, that we make trifles of terrors; 
ensconcing ourselves into seeming knowledge, 
when we should submit ourselves to an unknown 
fear. 

all's well that ends well, A. 2, s. 3. 



270 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

NEVER MAKE LOVE BY PROXY. 

D. Pedeo. Now, signior, Where's the count ; 
Did you see him ? 

Benedick. Troth, my lord, I have played 
the part of lady Famie. I found him here as 
melancholy as a lodge in a warren ; I told him, 
and, I think, I told him true, that your grace 
had got the good will of this young lady ; and I 
offered him my company to a willow tree, either 
to make him a garland, as being forsaken, or to 
bind him up a rod, as being worthy to be 
whipped. 

D.Pedro. To be whipped! What's his fault ? 

Bene. The flat transgression of a school-boy ; 
who, being overjoy' d with finding a bird's nest, 
shows it his companion, and he steals it. 

D. Pedeo. Wilt thou make a trust a trans- 
gression ? The transgression is in the stealer. 

Bene. Yet it had not been amiss, the rod 
had been made, and the garland too ; for the 
garland he might have worn himself; and the 
rod he might have bestow' d on you, who, as I 
take it, have stol'n his bird's nest. 

D. Pedeo. I will but teach them to sing, and 
restore them to the owner. 

MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING, A. 2, S. 1. 



NIGHT, AND ITS SPECIAL COR- 
RESPONDENTS. 

Loeenzo. The moon shines bright : — In such 
a night as this, 
When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees, 
And they did make no noise ; in such a night, 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 271 

Troilus, methinks, mounted the Trojan walls, 
And sigh'd his soul toward the Grecian tents, 
"Where Cressid lay that night. 

Jessica. In such a night, 

Did Thisle fearfully o'ertrip the dew ; 
And saw the lion's shadow ere himself, 
And ran dismay' d away. 

Loe. In such a night, 

Stood Dido with a willow in her hand 
Upon the wild sea-banks, and wav'd her love 
To come again to Carthage. 

Jes. In such a night, 

Medea gather' d the enchanted herbs, 
That did renew old JEson. 

Lob. In such a night, 

Did Jessica steal from the wealthy Jew : 
And with an unthrift love did run from Venice, 
As far as Belmont. 

Jes. And in such a night, 

Did young Lorenzo swear he lov'd her well ; 
Stealing her soul with many vows of faith, 
And ne'er a true one. 

Loe. And in such a night, 

Did pretty Jessica, like a little shrew, 
Slander her love, and he forgave it her. 

MERCHANT OF VENICE, A. 5, S. 1. 



NOBILITY IN DEATH. 

Nothing in his life 
Became him, like the leaving it ; he died 
As one that had been studied in his death, 
To 'throw away the dearest thing he ow'd, 
As 'twere a careless trifle. 

MACBETH, A. 1, S. 4 



272 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 



NOBILITY OF CONSCIENCE. 

"What stronger breast-plate than a heart un- 
tainted ? 
Thrice is he arm'd, that hath his quarrel just ; 
And he but naked, though lock'd up in steel, 
"Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted. 

K. HENRY VI., PART II., A. 3, S. 2. 



NOBILITY OF KEVENGE. 

How came he dead ? I'll not be juggled with : 
To hell, allegiance ! vows, to the blackest devil ! 
Conscience, and grace, to the profoundest pit ! 
I dare damnation : To this point I stand, — 
That both the worlds I give to negligence, 
Let come what comes ; only I'll be reveng'd 
Most throughly for my father. 

HAMLET, A. 4, S. 5. 



NOBILITY OF THE DYING 
STATESMAN. 

All good people, 
You that thus far have come to pity me, 
Hear what I say, and then go home and lose me. 
I have this day receiv'd a traitor's judgment, 
And by that name must die ; Yet, heaven bear 

witness, 
And, if I have a conscience, let it sink me, 
Even as the axe falls, if I be not faithful ! 
The law I bear no malice for my death, 
It has done, upon the premises, but justice ; 
But those, that sought it, I could' wish more 

Christians : 



WILLIAM SSAKLJSPLJABK 273 

Be what they will, I heartily forgive them : 
Tet let them look they glory not in mischief, 
Nor build their evils on the graves of great 

men; 
For then my guiltless blood must cry against 

them. 
For further life in this world I ne'er hope, 
Nor will I sue, although the king have mercies 
More than I dare make faults. You few that 

lov'd me, 
And dare be bold to weep for Buckingham, 
His noble friends, and fellows, whom to leave 
Is only bitter to him, only dying, 
Go with me, like good angels, to my end ; 
And, as the long divorce of steel falls on me, 
Make of your prayers one sweet sacrifice, 
And lift my soul to heaven. — Lead on, o'Grod's 

name. 
Sir Thomas Lovell, I as free forgive you, 
As I would be forgiven : I forgive all ; 
There cannot be those numberless offences 
'Grainst me, I can't take peace with: no black 

envy 
Shall make my grave. — Commend me to his 

grace ; 
And, if he speak of Buckingham, pray, tell him, 
Tou met him half in heaven: my vows and 

prayers 
Tet are the king's; and, till my soul forsake 

me, 
Shall cry for blessings on him : May he live 
Longer than I have time to tell his years ! 
Ever belov'd, and loving, may his rule be ! 
And, when old time shall lead him to his end, 
G-oodness and he fill up one monument ! 
My state now will but mock me. 

T 



274 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

When I came hither, I was lord high constable, 
And duke of Buckingham; now, poor Edward 

BoJiun : 
Yet I am richer than my base accusers, 
That never knew what truth meant: I now 

seal it ; 
And with that blood will make them one day 

groan for't. 
My noble father, Henry of Buckingham, 
"Who first rais'd head against usurping Bicfiard, 
Plying for succour to his servant Banister, 
Being distress'd, was by that wretch betray'd, 
And without trial fell; God's peace be with 

him! 
Henry the Seventh succeeding, truly pitying 
My father's loss, like a most royal prince, 
Rest or' d me to my honours, and, out of ruins, 
Made my name once more noble. Now his son, 
Henry the Eighth, life, honour, name, and all 
That made me happy, at one stroke has taken 
For ever from the world. I had my trial, 
And must needs say, a noble one ; which makes 

me 
A little happier than my wretched father : 
Yet thus far we are one in fortunes, — Both 
Pell by our servants, by those men we lov'd 

most; 
A most unnatural and faithless service ! 
Heaven has an end in all : Yet, you that hear me, 
This from a dying man receive as certain : 
Where you are liberal of your loves, and counsels, 
Be sure, you be not loose ; for those you make 

friends, 
And give your hearts to, when they once perceive 
The least rub in your fortunes, fall away 
Like water from ye, never found again 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 275 

But where they mean to sink ye. All good 
people, 

Pray for me ! I must now forsake ye ; the last 
hour 

Of my long weary life is come upon me. 

Farewell : 

And when you would say something that is sad, 

Speak how I fell. — I have done ; and Grod for- 
give me ! 

K. HEXRY VIII., A. 2, S. 1. 



NOBILITY OF THE MATRON. 

Volumnia. I pray you, daughter, sing; or 
express yourself in a more comfortable sort : If 
my son were my husband, I should freelier re- 
joice in that absence wherein he won honour, 
than in the embracements of his bed, where he 
would show most love. When yet he was but 
tender-bodied, and the only son of my womb ; 
when youth with comeliness plucked all gaze his 
way; when, for a day of king's entreaties, a 
mother should not sell him an hour from her 
beholding; I, — considering how honour would 
become such a person; that it was no better 
than picture-like to hang by the wall, if renown 
made it not stir, — was pleased to let him seek 
danger where he was like to find fame. To a 
cruel war I sent him ; from whence he returned, 
his brows bound with oak. I tell thee, daughter, 
— I sprang not more in joy at first hearing he 
was a man-child, than now in first seeing he had 
proved himself a man, 

Vibgilia. But had he died in the business, 
madam ? how then ? 

Vol. Then his good report should have been 



276 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

my son; I therein would have found issue. 
Hear me profess sincerely: — Had I a dozen 
sons, — each in my love alike, and none less dear 
than thine and my good Marcius, — I had rather 
had eleven die nobly for their country, than one 
voluptuously surfeit out of action. 

CORIOIANUS, A. 1, S. 2. 



NOBILITY OF THE HORSE. 

I will not change my horse with any that 
treads but on four pasterns. Ca, ha! He 
bounds from the earth, as if his entrails were 
hairs; le cheval volant, the Pegasus, qui a les 
narines de feu ! When I bestride him, I soar, 
I am a hawk : he trots the air ; the earth sings 
when he touches it ; the basest horn of his hoof 
is more musical than the pipe of Hermes. He's 
of the colour of the nutmeg. And of the heat 
of the ginger. It is a beast for Perseus : he is 
pure air and fire ; and the dull elements of earth 
and water never appear in him, but only in 
patient stillness, while his rider mounts him : he 
is, indeed, a horse ; and all other jades you may 
call — beasts. 

It is a most absolute and excellent horse. It 
is the prince of palfreys ; his neigh is like the 
bidding of a monarch, and his countenance en- 
forces homage. Nay, the man hath no wit, that 
cannot, from the rising of the lark to the lodging 
of the lamb, vary deserved praise on my palfrey : 
it is a theme as fluent as the sea ; turn the sands 
into eloquent tongues, and my horse is argument 
for them all : 'tis a subject for a sovereign to 
reason on, and for a sovereign's sovereign to 
ride on : and for the world (familiar to us, and 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEABK 277 

unknown,) to lay apart their particular functions, 
and wonder at him. 

K. HENRY V., A. 3, S. 7. 



NOBLE ASPIRATIONS. 

My lord, 'tis "but a base ignoble mind 
That mounts no higher than a bird can soar. 

K. HENRI VI., PART II., A. 2, S. 1, 



NOBLE MINDS HAVE NOBLE 

BEARING. 

Go thy ways, Kate : 
That man i'the world, who shall report he has 
A better wife, let him in nought be trusted, 
For speaking false in that : Thou art, alone, 
(If thy rare qualities, sweet gentleness, 
Thy meekness saint-like, wife-like government, — 
Obeying in commanding, — and thy parts 
Sovereign and pious else, could speak thee out,) 
The queen of earthly queens: — She is noble 

born ; 
And, like her true nobility, she has 
Carried herself towards me. 

K. HENRY VIII., A. 2, S. 4. 



NOBLE MINDS LOVE NOBLE 

MATES. 

Had I this cheek, 
To bathe my lips upon ; this hand, whose touch, 
"Whose every touch, would force the feeler's soul 
To the oath of loyalty ; this object, which 



278 THJE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Takes prisoner the wild motion of mine eye, 
Fixing it only here : should I (damn'd then,) 
Slaver with lips as common as the stairs 
That mount the Capitol; join gripes with hands 
Made hard with hourly falsehood (falsehood, as 
"With labour ;) then lie peeping in an eye, 
Base and unlustrous as the smoky light 
That's fed with stinking tallow ; it were fit, 
That all the plagues of hell should at one time 
Encounter such revolt. 

CYMBELINE, A. 1, S. 7. 



NONE BUT A FATHER CAN FEEL 
AS ONE. 

Tush, tush, man, never fleer and jest at me : 

I speak not like a dotard, nor a fool ; 

As, under privilege of age, to brag 

What I have done being young, or what would 

do, 
Were I not old : Know, Claudio, to thy head, 
Thou hast so wrong' d mine innocent child and 

me, 
That I am forc'd to lay my reverence by ; 
And, with grey hairs, and bruise of many days, 
Do challenge thee to trial of a man. 
I say, thou hast belied mine innocent child ; 
Thy slander hath gone through and through her 

heart, 
And she lies buried with her ancestors : 
O ! in a tomb where never scandal slept, 
Save this of her's, fram'd by thy villainy. 

MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING, A. 5, S. 1. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 279 

NONE BUT A FATHER CAN LOVE SO 
PURELY AND YET SO DEEPLY. 

Why, doth not every earthly thing 
Cry shame upon her ? Could she here deny 
The story that is printed in her blood ? — 
Do not live, Hero ; do not ope thine eyes : 
For did I think thou would'st not quickly die, 
Thought I thy spirits were stronger than thy 

shames, 
Myself would, on the rearward of reproaches, 
Strike at thy life. Griev'd I, I had but one ? 
Chid I for that at frugal nature's frame ? 
O, one too much by thee ! "Why had I one ? 
Why ever wast thou lovely in my eyes ? 
Why had I not with charitable hand, 
Took up a beggar's issue at my gates ; 
Who smirched thus, and mir'd with infamy, 
I might have said, No part of it is mine, 
This shame derives itself from unknown loins ? 
But mine, and mine I lov'd, and mine I prais'd, 
And mine that I was proud on ; mine so much, 
That I myself was to myself not mine, 
Valuing of her ; why, she — 0, she is fallen 
Into a pit of ink ! that the wide sea 
Hath drops too few to wash her clean again ; 
And salt too little, which may season give 
To her foul tainted flesh ! 

Confirm' d, confirm' d ! 0, that is stronger made, 
Which was before barr'd up with ribs of iron ! 
Would the two princes lie ? and Claudio lie ? 
Who lov'd her so, that, speaking of her foulness, 
Wash'd it with tears ? Hence from her. 

MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING, A. 4, S. 1. 



280 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

NONE BUT THE WEAKEST COULD 

SO BE WON. 

Was ever woman in this humour woo'd ? 
Was ever woman in this humour won ? 
I'll have her, — but I will not keep her long. 
What ! I, that kill'd her husband, and his father, 
To take her in her heart's extremest hate ; 
With curses in her mouth, tears in her eyes, 
The bleeding witness of her hatred by ; 
With God, her conscience, and these bars against 

me, 
And I no friends to back my suit withal, 
But the plain devil, and dissembling looks, 
And yet to win her, — all the world to nothing ! 
Ha! 

Hath she forgot already that brave prince, 
Edward, her lord, whom I some three months 

since, 
Stabb'd in my angry mood at Tewksbury? 
A sweeter and a lovelier gentleman, — 
Fram'd in the prodigality of nature, 
Young, valiant, wise, and, no doubt, right 

royal,— 
The spacious world cannot again afford : 
And will she yet abase her eyes on me, 
That cropp'd the golden prime of this sweet 

prince, 
And made her widow to a woful bed ? 
On me, whose all not equals Edward's moiety ? 
On me, that halt, and am mis-shapen thus ? 
My dukedom to a beggarly denier, 
I do mistake my person all this while : 
Upon my life, she finds, although I cannot, 
Myself to be a marvellous proper man. 
I'll be at charges for a looking-glass ; 



WILLIAJI SHAKESPEARE. 281 

And entertain a score or two of tailors, 
To study fashions to adorn my body : 
Since I am crept in favour with myself, 
I will maintain it with some little cost. 
But, first, I'll turn yon' fellow in his grave ; 
And then return lamenting to my love. — 
Shine out, fair sun, till I have bought a glass, 
That I may see my shadow as I pass. 

K. RICHARD III., A. 1, S. 2. 



NOTING OF THE SOUL THKOUGH 
THE FACE. 

Hear me a little ; 
For I have only been silent so long, 
And given way unto this course of fortune, 
By noting of the lady : I have mark'd 
A thousand blushing apparitions start 
Into her face ; a thousand innocent shames 
In angel whiteness bear away those blushes ; 
And in her eye there hath appear' d a fire, 
To burn the errors that these princes hold 
Against her maiden truth : — Call me a fool ; 
Trust not my reading, nor my observations, 
Which with experimental seal doth warrant 
The tenour of my book ; trust not my age, 
My reverence, calling, nor divinity, 
If this sweet lady lie not guiltless here 
Under some biting error. 

MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING, A. 4, S. 1. 



OATHS SHOULD BE ACCOMPANIED 

BY CONSCIENCE. 
"Who should I swear by ? thou believ'st no god ; 
That granted, how canst thou believe an oath ? 



282 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

"What if I do not ? as, indeed, I do not : 

Tet, — for I know thou art religious, 

And hast a thing within thee, called conscience ; 

And twenty popish tricks and ceremonies, 

Which I have seen thee careful to observe, — 

Therefore I urge thy oath ; — For that, I know, 

An idiot holds his bauble for a god, 

And keeps the oath, which by that God he 

swears ; 
To that I'll urge him: — Therefore, thou shalt 

vow 
By that same god, what god soe'er it be, 
That thou ador'st and hast in reverence, — 
To save my boy, to nourish, and bring him up. 

TITUS ANDRONICUS, A. 5, S. 1. 



OBTAINING A MAID IN MARRIAGE 
VERSUS MEN FOR WAR. 

My queen, and son, are gone to France for aid ; 
And, as I hear, the great commanding Warwick 
Is thither gone, to crave the French king's sister 
To wife for Edward : If this news be true, 
Poor queen and son, your labour is but lost ; 
For Warwick is a subtle orator, 
And Lewis a prince soon won with moving 

words. 
By this account, then, Margaret may win him ; 
For she's a woman to be pitied much : 
Her sighs will make a battery in his breast ; 
Her tears will pierce into a marble heart ; 
The tiger will be mild, while she doth mourn ; 
And Nero will be tainted with remorse, 
To hear, and see, her plaints, her brinish tears. 
Ay, but she's come to beg ; Warwick, to give : 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 283 

She, on his left side, craving aid for Henry ; 
He, on his right, asking a wife for Edward. 
She weeps, and says — her Henry is depos'd; 
He smiles, and says — his Edward is install 'd ; 
That she, poor wretch, for grief can speak no 

more: 
Whiles Warwick tells his title, smooths the 

wrong, 
Inferreth arguments of mighty strength ; 
And, in conclusion, wins the king from her, 
With promise of his sister, and what else, 
To strengthen and support king Edward's place. 
O Margaret, thus 'twill be ; and thou, poor soul, 
Art then forsaken, as thou went'st forlorn. 

K. HENRY VI., PART III., A. 3, S. 1. 



SLEEPING INNOCENCE. 

The crickets sing, and man's o'er-labour'd sense 
Repairs itself by rest : Our Tarquin thus 
Did softly press the rushes, ere he waken' d 
The chastity he wounded. — Cytherea, 
How bravely thou becom'st thy bed ! fresh lily ! 
And whiter than the sheets! That I might 

touch ! 
But kiss ; one kiss ! — Rubies unparagon'd, 
How dearly they do't ! — 'Tis her breathing that 
Perfumes the chamber thus: The flame o'the 

taper 
Bows toward her; and would under-peep her 

lids, 
To see the enclosed lights, now canopied 
Under these windows : White and azure, lac'd 
With blue of heaven's own tinct. — But my 

design, 



284 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

To note the chamber : — I will write all down : — 
Such, and such, pictures : — There the window : — 

Such 
The adornment of her bed ; — The arras, figures, 
Why, such, and such : — And the contents o'the 

story — 
Ah, but some natural notes about her body, 
Above ten thousand meaner moveables 
Would testify, to enrich mine inventory : 
O sleep, thou ape of death, lie dull upon her ! 
And be her sense but as a monument, 
Thus in a chapel lying ! — Come off, come off ; 

\Taking off "her bracelet. 
As slippery, as the Grordian knot was hard ! — 
'Tis mine ; and this will witness outwardly, 
As strongly as the conscience does within, 
To the madding of her lord. On her left breast 
A mole cinque-spotted, like the crimson drops 
I'the bottom of a cowslip. Here's a voucher, 
Stronger than ever law could make : this secret 
Will force him think I have pick'd the lock, and 

ta'en 
The treasure of her honour. No more. — To 

what end ? 
Why should I write this down, that's rivetted, 
Screw' d to my memory ? She hath been reading 

late 
The tale of Tereus; here the leaf's turn'd down, 
Where Philomel gave up ; I have enough : 
To the trunk again, and shut the spring of it. 
Swift, swift, you dragons of the night! — that 

dawning 
May bare the raven's eye : I lodge in fear ; 
Though this a heavenly angel, hell is here* 

CYMBELINE, A. 2, S. 2. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 285 

MISERIES OF CIVIL WAR 

Shame and confusion ! all is on the rout ; 
Eear frames disorder, and disorder wounds 
Where it should guard. war, thou son of hell, 
Whom angry heavens do make their minister, 
Throw in the frozen bosoms of our part 
Hot coals of vengeance ! — Let no soldier fly : 
He that is truly dedicate to war, 
Hath no self-love ; nor he, that loves himself, 
Hath not essentially, but by circumstance, 
The name of valour. — 0, let the vile world end, 
[Seeing his dead father. 
And the premised flames of the last day 
Knit earth and heaven together ! 
Now let the general trumpet blow his blast, 
Particularities and petty sounds 
To cease ! Wast thou ordain' d, dear father, 
To lose thy youth in peace, and to achieve 
The silver livery of advised age ; 
And, in thy reverence, and thy chair-days, thus 
To die in ruffian battle ? — Even at this sight, 
My heart is turn'd to stone ; and, while 'tis mine, 
It shall be stony. York not our old men spares ; 
No more will I their babes : tears virginal 
Shall be to me even as the dew to fire ; 
And beauty, that the tyrant oft reclaims, 
Shall to my flaming wrath be oil and flax. 
Henceforth, I will not have to do with pity : 
Meet I an infant of the house of York, 
Into as many gobbets will I cut it, 
As wild Medea young Absyrtus did : 
In cruelty will I seek out my fame. 
Come, thou new ruin of old Clifford's house ; 

{Taking up the body. 
As did JEneas old Anchises bear, 
So bear I thee upon my manly shoulders ; 



THE PHILOSOPHY OF 



But then JEneas bare a living load, 
Nothing so heavy as these woes of mine. 

K. HENRY VI., PART II., A. 5, S. 2. 



OLD JUDGES THE MOST MERCIFUL. 

And the new deputy now for the duke, — 

Whether it be the fault and glimpse of newness ; 

Or whether that the body public be 

A horse whereon the governor doth ride, 

Who, newly in the seat, that it may know 

He can command, lets it straight feel the spur : 

Whether the tyranny be in his place, 

Or in his eminence that fills it up, 

I stagger in : — But this new governor 

Awakes me all the enroll' d penalties, 

Which have, like unscour'd armour, hung by the 

wall 
So long, that nineteen zodiacks have gone round, 
And none of them been worn ; and, for a name, 
Now puts the drowsy and neglected act 
Freshly on me : — 'tis surely, for a name. 

MEASURE FOR MEASURE, A. 1, S. 3. 



OMENS MAY BE NOTICED. 

Woe, woe, for England ! not a whit for me ; 
For I, too fond, might have prevented this : 
Stanley did dream, the boar did raise his helm ; 
But I disdain' d it, and did scorn to fly. 
Three times to-day my foot-cloth horse did 

stumble, 
And startled, when he look'd upon the Tower, 
As loath to bear me to the slaughter-house. 
0, now I want the priest that spake to me : 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEABK 287 

I now repent I told the pursuivant, 
As too triumphing, how mine enemies, 
To-day at JPomfret bloodily were butcher' d, 
And I myself secure in grace and favour. 
O, Margaret, Margaret, now thy heavy curse 
Is lighted on poor Hastings' wretched head. 

momentary grace of mortal men, 

"Which we more hunt for than the grace of Q-od ! 
Who builds his hope in air of your fair looks, 
Lives like a drunken sailor on a mast ; 
Eeady, with every nod, to tumble down 
Into the fatal bowels of the deep. 
0, bloody JRichard! — miserable England, 

1 prophesy the fearful' st time to thee, 
That ever wretched age hath look'd upon, — 
Come, lead me to the block, bear him my head ; 
They smile at me, who shortly shall be dead. 

K. RICHARD III., A. 3, S. 4. 



ONCE A KING ALWAYS ONE. 

King, be thy thoughts imperious, like thy name. 
Is the sun dimm'd, that gnats do fly in it ? 
The eagle suffers little birds to sing, 
And is not careful what they mean thereby ; 
Knowing that, with the shadow of his wings 
He can at pleasure stint their melody. 

TITUS ANDRONICUS, A. 4, S. 4. 



ONE OF THE WORST SINS. 

Mark you this, 
The devil can cite scripture for his purpose. 
An evil soul, producing holy witness, 
Is like a villain with a smiling cheek ; 



288 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

A goodly apple rotten at the heart ; 

O, what a goodly outside falsehood hath ! 

MERCHANT OF VENICE, A. 1, S. 3. 



ON THE ART OF OBTAINING A 
CROWN. 

Well, say there is no kingdom then for Pichard; 

What other pleasure can the world afford ? 

I'll make my heaven in a lady's lap, 

And deck my body in gay ornaments, 

And witch sweet ladies with my words and looks. 

O miserable thought ! and more unlikely, 

Than to accomplish twenty golden crowns ! 

Why, love forswore me in my mother's womb : 

And, for I should not deal in her soft laws, 

She did corrupt frail nature with some bribe 

To shrink mine arm up like a wither'd shrub ; 

To make an envious mountain on my back, 

Where sits deformity to mock my body ; 

To shape my legs of an unequal size ; 

To disproportion me in every part, 

Like to a chaos, or an unlick'd bear-whelp, 

That carries no impression like the dam. 

And am I then a man to be belov'd ? 

O, monstrous fault, to harbour such a thought ! 

Then, since this earth affords no joy to me, 

But to command, to check, to o'erbear such 

As are of better person than myself, 

I'll make my heaven — to dream upon the crown ; 

And, whiles I live, to account this world but 

hell, 
Until my mis-shap'd trunk that bears this head, 
Be round impaled with a glorious crown. 
And yet I know not how to get the crown, 



WILLIAM SSAKUSPJEAJSU. 289 

For many lives stand between me and home ; 

And I, — like one lost in a thorny wood, 

That rends the thorns, and is rent with the 

thorns ; 
Seeking a way, and straying from the way : 
Not knowing how to find the open air, 
But toiling desperately to find it out, — 
Torment myself to catch the English crown : 
And from that torment I will free myself, 
Or hew my way out with a bloody axe. 
Why, I can smile, and murder while I smile : 
And cry, content, to that which grieves my 

heart ; 
And wet my cheeks with artificial tears, 
And frame my face to all occasions. 
I'll drown more sailors than the mermaid shall ; 
I'll slay more gazers than the basilisk ; 
I'll play the orator as well as Nestor, 
Deceive more slily than Ulysses could, 
And, like a Sinon, take another Troy : 
I can add colours to the cameleon ; 
Change shapes, with Proteus, for advantages, 
And set the murd'rous MacMavel to school. 
Can I do this, and cannot get a crown ? 
Tut ! were it further off, I'll pluck it down. 

K. HENRY VI., PART III., A. 3, S. 2. 



ORDINARY MINDS SELDOM 
DISCERN GBEATNESS WHEN NEAR. 

Messeng-ek. Pompey is strong at sea; 

And it appears, he is belov'd of those 
That only have fear'd Ccesar : to the ports 
The discontents repair, and men's reports 
Give him much wrong' d. 



290 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Cjesar. It hath been taught us from the 

primal state, 
That he, which is, was wish'd, until he were : 
And the ebb'd man, ne'er lov'd, till ne'er worth 

love, 
Comes fear'd, by being laek'd. This common 

body, 
Like a vagabond flag upon the stream, 
Goes to, and back, lackeying the varying tide, 
To rot itself with motion. 

ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA, A. 1, S. 4. 



OUT OF SIGHT, OUT OF MIND. 

Troilus, farewell ! one eye yet looks on thee ; 
But with my heart the other eye doth see. 
Ah ! poor our sex ! this fault in us I find, 
The error of our eye directs our mind : 
What error leads, must err ; O then conclude, 
Minds, sway'd by eyes, are full of turpitude. 

TROILUS AND CRESSIDA, A. 5, S. 2. 



OUT OF SIGHT, OUT OF MIND. 

The exile of her minion is too new ; 
She hath not yet forgot him : some more time 
Must wear the print of his remembrance out, 
And then she's yours. 

CYMBELINE, A. 2, S. 3. 



OUTSIDE POLITICIANS. 

Hang 'em ! They say ? 
They'll sit by the fire, and presume to know 
"What's done i'the Capitol: who's like to rise, 



WILLIAM SHAKUSPUABU. 29 1 

Who thrives, and who declines: side factions, 

and give out 
Conjectural marriages ; mating parties strong, 
And feebling such as stand not in their liking, 
Below their cobbled shoes. 

COBIOLANUS, A. 1, S. 1. 



OUTWARD BEAUTY. 

As I told you always, her beauty and her 
brain go not together : She is a good sign, but 
I have seen small reflection of her wit. 

CYMBELINE, A. 1, S. 3. 



OVER GENEROSITY OFT BRINGS 

DISTRESS. 

What will this come to ? 
He commands us to provide, and give great gifts, 
And all out of an empty coffer. — 
Nor will he know his purse ; or yield me this, 
To show him what a beggar his heart is, 
Being of no power to make his wishes good ; 
His promises fly so beyond his state, 
That what he speaks is all in debt, he owes 
For every word ; he is so kind, that he now 
Pays interest for't ; his land's put to their books. 
Well, 'would I were gently put out of offi.ce, 
Before I were forc'd out ! 
Happier is he that has no friend to feed, 
Than such as do even enemies exceed. 
I bleed inwardly for my lord. 

TIMON OF ATHENS, A. 1, S. 2. 



292 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

PANDERERS TO EVIL WILL BE 
CONTEMNED. 

Extoist. Erom your own mouth, my lord, did 

I this deed. 
Bolingbkoke. They love not poison that do 

poison need, 
Nor do I thee ; though I did wish him dead, 
I hate the murderer, love him murdered. 
The guilt of conscience take thou for thy labour, 
But neither my good word, nor princely favour : 
"With Cain go wander through the shade of night, 

And never show thy head by day nor light. 

Lords, I protest, my soul is full of woe, 

That blood should sprinkle me, to make me 

grow: 
Come, mourn with me for what I do lament, 
And put on sullen black, incontinent ; 
I'll make a voyage to the Holy land, 
To wash this blood off from my guilty hand : — 
March sadly after ; grace my mournings here, 
In weeping after this untimely bier. 

K. RICHARD II., A. 5, S. 6. 



PATRICIAN ADMIRATION. 

If I should tell thee o'er this thy day's work, 
Thou'lt not believe thy deeds : but I'll report it, 
Where senators shall mingle tears with smiles ; 
Where great patricians shall attend, and shrug, 
I'the end, admire ; where ladies shall be frighted, 
And, gladly quak'd, hear more ; where the dull 

Tribunes, 
That, with the fusty plebeians, hate thine 

honours, 



WILLIJ3I SHAKESPEARE. 293 

Shall say, against their hearts, — We thank the 

gods, 
Our Rome hath such a soldier ! — 
Tet cam'st thou to a morsel of this feast, 
Having fully dined before. 

CORIOLANUS, A. 1, S. 9. 



PEACE PLEADINGS. 

My duty to you both, on equal love, 

Great kings of France and England ! That I 

have labour' d 
With allmy wits, my pains, and strong endeavours, 
To bring your most imperial majesties 
Unto this bar and royal interview, 
Tour mightiness on both parts best can witness. 
Since then my office hath so far prevail' d, 
That face to face, and royal eye to eye, 
Tou have congreeted ; let it not disgrace me, 
If I demand, before this royal view, 
"What rub, or what impediment, there is, 
"Why that the naked, poor, and mangled peace, 
Dear nurse of arts, plenties, and joyful births, 
Should not, in this best garden of the world, 
Our fertile France, put up her lovely visage ? 
Alas! she hath from France too long been 

chas'd ; 
And all her husbandry doth lie on heaps, 
Corrupting in its own fertility. 
Her vine, the merry cheerer of the heart, 
Unpruned dies : her hedges even-pleached, — 
Like prisoners wildly over-grown with hair, 
Put forth disorder' d twigs : her fallow leas 
The darnel, hemlock, and rank fumitory, 
Doth root upon ; while that the coulter rusts, 
That should deracinate such savagery : 



294 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

The even mead, that erst brought sweetly forth 
The freckled cowslip, burnet, and green clover, 
"Wanting the scythe, all uncorrected, rank, 
Conceives by idleness ; and nothing teems, 
But hateful docks, rough thistles, kecksies, burs, 
Losing both beauty and utility. 
And as our vineyards, fallows, meads, and hedges, 
Defective in their natures, grow to wildness ; 
Even so our houses, and ourselves, and children, 
Have lost, or do not learn, for want of time, 
The sciences that should become our country ; 
But grow, like savages, — as soldiers will, 
That nothing do but meditate on blood, — 
To swearing, and stern looks, diffus'd attire, 
And every thing that seems unnatural. 
"Which to reduce into our former favour, 
Tou are assembled : and my speech entreats, 
That I may know the let, why gentle peace 
Should not expel these inconveniencies, 
And bless us with her former qualities. 

K. HENRY V., A. 5, S. 2. 

PENALTIES OF SIN. 

Elinor. His mother shames him so, poor 

boy, he weeps. 
Constance. Now shame upon you, whe'r 

she does, or no ! 
His grandam's wrongs, and not his mother's 

shames, 
Draw those heaven-moving pearls from his poor 

eyes, 
"Which heaven shall take in nature of a fee ; 
Ay, with these crystal beads heaven shall be 

brib'd 
To do him justice, and revenge on you. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 295 

Thou monstrous injurer of heaven and earth ! 
Call not me slanderer ; thou, and thine, usurp 
The dominations, royalties, and rights, 
Of this oppressed boy : This is thy eldest son's 

son, 
Infortunate in nothing but in thee ; 
Thy sins are visited in this poor child ; 
The canon of the law is laid on him, 
Being but the second generation 
Removed from thy sin-conceiving womb. 
I have but this to say, — 
That he's not only plagued for her sin, 
But God hath made her sin and her the plague 
On this removed issue, plagu'd for her, 
And with her plague, her sin ; his injury, 
Her injury, — the beadle to her sin ; 
All punish' d in the person of this child, 
And all for her ; A plague upon her ! 

Eli. Thou unadvised scold, I can produce 
A will, that bars the title of thy son. 

Cois'st. Ay, who doubts that? a will! a 

wicked will; 
A woman's will ; a canker'd grandam's will ! 

KING JOHN, A. 2, S. 1. 



PENALTY OF BEING FAMILIAR 
WITH INFERIORS. 

Deomio. Hold, sir, for God's sake: now 
your jest is earnest : 
Upon what bargain do you give it me ? 

Antipholus. Because that I familiarly some- 
times 
Do use you for my fool, and chat with you, 
Your sauciness will jest upon my love, 



296 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

And make a common of my serious hours. 
"When the sun shines, let foolish gnats make 

sport, 
But creep in crannies, when he hides his beams. 
If you will jest with me, know my aspect, 
And fashion your demeanour to my looks, 
Or I will beat this method in your sconce. 

COMEDY OP ERRORS, A. 2, S. 2. 



PERFECTION. 

My dearest wife was like this maid, and such a 

one 
My daughter might have been: my queen's 

square brows ; 
Her stature to an inch ; as wand-like straight ; 
As silver-voic'd; her eyes as jewel-like, 
And cas'd as richly : in pace another Juno; 
Who starves the ears she feeds, and makes them 

hungry, 
The more she gives them speech. 

PERICLES, A. 5, S. 1. 



PERFECTION OF WOMEN. 

Lorenzo. How cheer' st thou, Jessica? 

And now, good sweet, say thy opinion, 
How dost thou like the lord Bassanio's wife ? 

Jessica. Past all expressing : It is very meet, 
The lord JBassanio live an upright life ; 
For, having such a blessing in his lady, 
He finds the joys of heaven here on earth ; 
And, if on earth he do not mean it, it 
Is reason he should never come to heaven. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 297 

"Why, if two gods should play some heavenly 

match, 
And on the wager lay two earthly women, 
And Portia one, there must be something else 
Pawn'd with the other ; for the poor rude world 
Hath not her fellow. 

MERCHANT OF YENICE, A. 3, S. 5. 



PERIL OF POWER 

Peace, master marquis, you are malapert : 
Tour fire-new stamp of honour is scarce current : 
0, that your young nobility could judge, 
WTiat 'twere to lose it, and be miserable ! 
They that stand high, have many blasts to shake 

them; 
And, if they fall, they dash themselves to pieces, 

K. RICHARD III., A. 1, S. 3. 



PERSUASION. 

Peess me not, 'beseech you, so ; 
There is no tongue that moves, none, none i'the 

world, 
So soon as yours, could win me : so it should 

now, 
Were there necessity in your request, although 
'Twere needful I denied it. My affairs 
Do even drag me homeward : which to hinder, 
Were, in your love, a whip to me ; my stay, 
To you a charge, and trouble : to save both, 
Farewell, our brother. 

winter's tale, a. 1, s. 2. 



298 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 



PERTURBATION. 

My mind is troubled, like a fountain stirr'd ; 
And I myself see not the bottom of it. 

TROILUS AND CRESSIDA, A. 3, S. 3. 



PERTURBATION OF A GREAT MIND 
ON THE DISCOVERY OF EVIL. 

O all you host of heaven ! earth ! What 

else? 
And shaU I couple hell?— fye!— Hold, hold, 

my heart ; 
And you, my sinews, grow not instant old, 
But bear me stiffly up ! — Remember thee ? 
Ay, thou poor ghost, while memory holds a seat 
In this distracted globe. Remember thee ? 
Tea, from the table of my memory 
I'll wipe away all trivial fond records, 
All saws of books, all forms, all pressures past, 
That youth and observation copied there ; 
And thy commandment all alone shall live 
"Within the book and volume of my brain, 
Unmix'd with baser matter: yes, by heaven. 
O most pernicious woman ! 
O villain, villain, smiling, damned villain ! 
My tables, — meet it is, I set it down, 
That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain ; 
At least, I am sure, it may be so in Denmark. 

HAMLET, A. 1, S. 5. 



PERVERTED AFFECTIONS. 

Now is the winter of our discontent, 

Made glorious summer by this sun of York; 



WILLIAM SKAKUSPLJABU. 299 

And all the clouds, that lower' d upon our house, 
In the deep bosom of the ocean buried. 
Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths ; 
Our bruised arms hung up for monuments ; 
Our stern alarums chang'd to merry meetings, 
Our dreadful marches to delightful measures. 
Grim-visag'd war hath smooth' d his wrinkled 

front ; 
And now — instead of mounting barbed steeds, 
To fright the souls of fearful adversaries, — 
He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber, 
To the lascivious pleasing of a lute. 
But I, — that am not shap'd for sportive tricks, 
Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass ; 
I, that am rudely stamp 'd, and want love's 

majesty ; 
To strut before a wanton ambling nymph ; 
I, that am curtail' d of this fair proportion, 
Cheated of feature by dissembling nature, 
Deform' d, unfinish'd, sent before my time 
Into this breathing world, scarce half made up, 
And that so lamely and unfashionable, 
That dogs bark at me, as I halt by them ; 
"Why I, in this weak piping time of peace, 
Have no delight to pass away the time ; 
Unless to spy my shadow in the sun, 
And descant on mine own deformity ; 
And therefore, — since I cannot prove a lover, 
To entertain these fair well-spoken days, — 
I am determined to prove a villain, 
And hate the idle pleasures of these days. 
Plots have I laid, inductions dangerous, 
By drunken prophecies, libels, and dreams, 
To set my brother Clarence, and the king, 
In deadly hate the one against the other : 
And, if king Edward be as true and just, 



300 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

As I am subtle, false, and treacherous, 
This day should Clarence closely be mew'd up ; 
About a prophecy, which says — that G 
Of Edward's heirs the murderer shall be. 
Dive, thoughts, down to my soul ! here Clarence 
comes. 

K. RICHARD III., A. 1, S. 1. 



PHILOSOPHY OF CHAKMS. 

That handkerchief 

Did an Egyptian to my mother give ; 

She was a charmer, and could almost read 

The thoughts of people : she told her, while she 

kept it, 
'Twould make her amiable, and subdue my father 
Entirely to her love ; but if she lost it, 
Or made a gift of it, my father's eye 
Should hold her loathly, and his spirits should 

hunt 
After new fancies : She, dying, gave it me ; 
And bid me, when my fate would have me wive, 
To give it her. I did so : and take heed oft, 
Make it a darling like your precious eye ; 
To lose or give't away, were such perdition, 
As nothing else could match. 
'Tis true : There's magick in the web of it : 
A sibyl, that had number' d in the world 
The sun to make two hundred compasses, 
In her prophetick fury sew'd the work : 
The worms were hallow'd, that did breed the 

silk; 
And it was dy'd in mummy, which the skilful 
Conserv'd of maidens' hearts. 

OTHELLO, A. 3, S. 4. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 301 



PHILOSOPHY OF DISSIMULATION. 

Your face, my thane, is as a book, where men 
May read strange matters ; — To beguile the time, 
Look like the time ; bear welcome in your eye, 
Tour hand, your tongue : look like the innocent 

flower, 
But be the serpent under it. He that's coming 
Must be provided for : and you shall put 
This night's great business into my despatch; 
Which shall to all our nights and days to come 
Give solely sovereign sway and masterdom. 
Only look up clear ; 
To alter favour ever is to fear : 
Leave all the rest to me. 

MACBETH, A. I, S. 5. 



PHILOSOPHY OF FRIENDSHIP. 

The amity, that wisdom knits not, folly may 
easily untie. 

TROILUS AND CRESSIDA, A. 2, S. 3. 



PHILOSOPHY OF LIFE. 

Look thou character. Give thy thoughts no 

tongue, 
Nor any unproportion'd thought his act. 
Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar. 
The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried, 
Grapple them to thy soul with hooks of steel ; 
But do not dull thy palm with entertainment 
Of each new-hatch'd, unfledg'd comrade. Beware 
Of entrance to a quarrel : but, being in, 
Bear it, that the opposer may beware of thee. 
Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice : 



302 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judg- 
ment. 
Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy, 
But not express' d in fancy : rich, not gaudy : 
For the apparel oft proclaims the man ; 
And they in France, of the best rank and station, 
Are most select and generous, chief in that. 
Neither a borrower, nor a lender be : 
For loan oft loses both itself and friend ; 
And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry. 
This above all, — To thine ownself be true ; 
And it must follow, as the night the day, 
Thou canst not then be false to any man. 

HAMLET, A. 1, S. 3. 



PHILOSOPHY OF MARRIAGE. 

Adriafa. This servitude makes you to keep 

unwed. 
Luciana. Not this, but troubles of the 

marriage-bed. 
Adr. But, were you wedded, you would bear 

some sway. 
Luc. Ere I learn love, I'll practise to obey. 
Adr. How if your husband start some other 

where ? 
Luc. Till he come home again, I would 

forbear. 
Adr. Patience, unmov'd, no marvel though 
she pause ; 
They can be meek, that have no other cause. 
A wretched soul, bruis'd with adversity, 
We bid be quiet, when we hear it cry ; 
But were we burden' d with like weight of pain, 
As much, or more, we should ourselves complain: 
So thou, that hast no unkind mate to grieve thee, 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 303 

"With urging helpless patience would' st relieve 

me: 
But, if thou live to see like right bereft, 
This fool-begg'd patience in thee will be left. 
Luc. "Well, I will marry one day, but to 

try; 
Here comes your man, now is your husband 

nigh. 

COMEDY OF ERRORS, A. 2, S. 1. 



PHILOSOPHY OF MUSIC. 

Pbepostebotts ass ! that never read so far 
To know the cause why music was ordain' d ! 
Was it not, to refresh the mind of man, 
After his studies, or his usual pain ? 
Then give me leave to read philosophy, 
And, while I pause, serve in your harmony. 

TAMING OP THE SHREW, A. 3, S. 1. 



PHILOSOPHY OF SYMPATHY. 

Love goes toward love, as school-boys from their 

books ; 
But love from love, toward school with heavy 

looks. 

ROMEO AND JULIET, A. 2, S. 2. 



PHILOSOPHY OF THE CONSCIOUS 
WORLD. 

The great man down, you mark, his favourite 

flies ; 
The poor advanc'd makes friends of enemies. 



304 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

And hitherto doth love on fortune tend : 
For who not needs, shall never lack a friend ; 
And who in want a hollow friend doth try, 
Directly seasons him his enemy. 
But, orderly to end where I begun, — 
Our wills, and fates, do so contrary run, 
That our devices still are overthrown ; 
Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our 

own : 
So think thou wilt no second husband wed ; 
But die thy thoughts, when thy first one is 

dead. 

HAMLET, A. 3, S. 2. 



PHYSIOGNOMY. 

Nay, I knew by his face that there was some- 
thing in him : he had, sir, a kind of face, me- 
thought, — I cannot tell how to term it. He 

had so ; looking as it were, '"Would I were 

hanged, but I thought there was more in him 
than I could think. 

COEIOLANUS, A. 4, S. 5. 



PHYSIOGNOMY. 

Cleopatea. Bear'st thou her face in mind ? 

is it long, or round ? 
Messengee. Bound even to faultiness. 
Cleo. Por the most part, too, 

They are foolish that are so. 

ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA, A. 3, S. 3. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 305 

PHYSIOGNOMY. 

Theee is a bind of confession in your looks, 
which your modesties have not craft enough to 
colour. 

HAMLET, A. 2, S. 2. 



PHYSIOGNOMY OF AGE AND 

SOREOW. 

Kind keepers of my weak decaying age, 
Let dying Mortimer here rest himself. — 
Even like a man new haled from the rack, 
So fare my limbs with long imprisonment : 
And these grey locks, the pursuivants of death, 
Nestor-Yike aged, in an age of care, 
Argue the end of Edmund Mortimer. 
These eyes, — like lamps whose wasting oil is 

spent, — 
"Wax dim, as drawing to their end. 
"Weak shoulders, overborne with burd'ning grief; 
And pithless arms, like to a wither' d vine 
That droops his sapless branches to the ground: — 
Yet are these feet, whose strengthless stay is 

numb, 
Unable to support this lump of clay, — 
Swift- winged with desire to get a grave, 
As witting I no other comfort have. 

K. HENSY VI., PART I., A. 2, S. 5. 



PHYSIOGNOMY OF MISFOETUNE. 

Captain. My lord of Salislury, we have 
staid ten days, 
And hardly kept our countrymen together, 
And yet we hear no tidings from the king ; 
x 



3 o6 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Therefore we will disperse ourselves : farewell. 
Salisbury. Stay yet another day, thou trusty 

Welshman ; 
The king reposeth all his confidence 
In thee. 

Cap. 'Tis thought, the king is dead ; we will 

not stay. 
The bay-trees in our country are all wither' d, 
And meteors fright the fixed stars of heaven ; 
The pale-fac'd moon looks bloody on the earth, 
And lean-look' d prophets whisper fearful change; 
Rich men look sad, and ruffians dance and leap, — 
The one, in fear to lose what they enjoy, 
The other, to enjoy by rage and war : 
These signs forerun the death or fall of kings. — 
Farewell ; our countrymen are gone and fled, 
As well assur'd, Richard their king is dead. 
Sal. Ah, Richard! with the eyes of heavy 

mind, 
I see thy glory, like a shooting star, 
Pall to the base earth from the firmament ! 
Thy sun sets weeping in the lowly west, 
Witnessing storms to come, woe, and unrest ; 
Thy friends are fled, to wait upon thy foes ; 
And crossly to thy good all fortune goes. 

K. RICHARD II., A. 2, S. 4. 



PHYSIOLOGY OF LOVE. 

Love is a smoke rais'd with the fume of sighs ; 
Being purg'd, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes ; 
Being vex'd, a sea nourish' d with lovers' tears : 
What is it else ? a madness most discreet, 
A choking gall, and a preserving sweet. 

IIOMEO AND JULIET, A. 1, S. 1. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPLJABjEJ. 307 



PICTURE OF A HERO. 

See you yond' coign o'the Capitol; yond' 
corner-stone ? If it be possible for you to dis- 
place it with your little finger, there is some 
hope the ladies of Borne, especially his mother, 
may prevail with him. But I say, there is no 
hope in't; our throats are sentenced, and stay 
upon execution. There is diflerency between a 
grub, and a butterfly ; yet your butterfly was a 
grub. This Marcius is grown from man to 
dragon : he has wings ; he's more than a creep- 
ing thing. He no more remembers his mother 
now, than an eight year old horse. The tartness 
of his face sours ripe grapes. "When he walks, 
he moves like an engine, and the ground shrinks 
before his treading. He is able to pierce a 
corslet with his eye ; talks like a knell, and his 
hum is a battery. He sits in his state, as a 
thing made for Alexander. "What he bids be 
done, is finished with his bidding. He wants 
nothing of a god, but eternity, and a heaven to 
throne in. I paint him in the character. Mark 
what mercy his mother shall bring from him: 
There is no more mercy in him, than there is 
milk in a male tiger; that shall our poor city 
find : In such a case, the gods will not be good 
unto us. When we banished him, we respected 
not them : and, he returning to break our necks, 
they respect not us. 

CORIOLANUS, A. 5, S. 4. 



PICTURE OF MORNING. 

The hunt is up, the morn is bright and grey, 
The fields are fragrant, and the woods are green: 
Uncouple here, and let us make a bay, 



3 o8 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

And wake the emperor and his lovely bride, 
And rouse the prince ; and ring a hunter's peal, 
That all the court may echo with the noise. 
Sons, let it be your charge, as it is ours, 
To tend the emperor's person carefully : 
I have been troubled in my sleep this night, 
But dawning day new comfort hath inspir'd. 

TITUS ANDHONICUS, A. 2, S. 2. 



PICTUEE OF PERFECTION IN 
WOMEN. 

TJpoisr the fairest boughs, 

Or at every sentence' end, 
"Will I Rosalinda write ; 

Teaching all that read, to know 
The quintessence of every sprite 

Heaven would in little show. 
Therefore heaven nature charg'd 

That one body should be fill'd 
With all graces wide enlarg'd: 

Nature presently distill' d 
Helen's cheek, but not her heart ; 

Cleopatra's majesty ; 
Atalanta's better part ; 

Sad Lucretia's modesty. 
Thus Rosalind of many parts 

By heavenly synod was devis'd, 
Of many faces, eyes, and hearts, 

To have the touches dearest priz'd. 
Heaven would that she these gifts should have, 
And I to live aud die her slave. 

AS YOU LIKE IT, A. 3, S. 2. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 309 

POLICY SOMETIMES SITS ABOVE 
CONSCIENCE. 
Why this 

Is the world's soul ; and just of the same piece 
Is every flatterer's spirit. Who can call him 
His friend, that dips in the same dish ? for, in 
My knowing, Timon has been this lord's father, 
And kept his credit with his purse ; 
Supported his estate ; nay, Timon' 's money 
Has paid his men their wages : He ne'er drinks, 
But Timon' s silver treads upon his lip ; 
And yet, (0, see the monstrousness of man 
"When he looks out in an ungrateful shape !) 
He does deny him, in respect of his, 
"What charitable men afford to beggars. 
Religion groans at it. For mine own part, 
I never tasted Timon in my life, 
Nor came any of his bounties over me, 
To mark me for his friend ; yet, I protest, 
For his right noble mind, illustrious virtue, 
And honourable carriage, 
Had his necessity made use of me, 
I would have put my wealth into donation, 
And the best half should have return' d to him, 
So much I love his heart : But, I perceive, 
Men must learn now with pity to dispense : 
For policy sits above conscience. 

TIMON OF ATHENS, A. 3, S. 2. 



POPULAR ELECTION— ITS 

MYSTERIES. 

Citizen. You have been a scourge to her 
enemies, you have been a rod to her friends ; 
you have not, indeed, loved the common people. 



3 1 o THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Coeiolanus. You should account me the 
more virtuous, that I have not been common in 
my love. I will, sir, natter my sworn brother 
the people, to earn a dearer estimation of them ; 
'tis a condition they account gentle : and since 
the wisdom of their choice is rather to have my 
hat than my heart, I will practise the insinuating 
nod, and be off to them most counterfeitly : that 
is, sir, I will counterfeit the bewitchment of 
some popular man, and give it bountifully to 
the desirers. 

Most sweet voices ! — 
Better it is to die, better to starve, 
Than crave the hire which first we do deserve. 
Why in this wolfish gown should I stand here, 
To beg of Hob and Dick, that do appear, 
Their needless vouches ? Custom calls me.to't : — 
What custom wills, in all things should we do't, 
The dust on antique time would lie unswept, 
And mountainous error be too highly heap'd 
For truth to over-peer. — Rather than fool it so, 
Let the high office and the honour go 
To one that would do thus. — I am half through 
The one part suffer' d, the other will I do. 
Here come more voices, — 
Tour voices : for your voices I have fought ; 
Watch' d for your voices ; for your voices, bear 
Of wounds two dozen odd ; battles thrice six 
I have seen and heard of; for your voices, have 
Done many things, some less, some more : your 

voices : 
Indeed, I would be consul. 

CORIOLANUS, A. 2, s. 3. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 



3ii 



PORTRAIT OF ANGLIA. 

That pale, that white-fae'd shore, 

Whose foot spurns back the ocean's roaring 

tides, 
And coops from other lands her islanders, 
Even till that England, hedg'd in with the main, 
That water- wall' d bulwark, still secure 
And confident from foreign purposes, 
Even till that utmost corner of the west 
Salute thee for her king : till then, fair boy, 
Will I not think of home, but follow arms. 

KING JOHN, A, 2, S. 1. 



POVERTY NO FRIEND TO 
INTELLECT. 

As we do turn our backs 
From our companion, thrown into his grave ; 
So his familiars to his buried fortunes 
Slink all away ; leave their false vows with him, 
Like empty purses pick'd : and his poor self, 
A dedicated beggar to the air, 
With his disease of all-shunn'd poverty, 
Walks, like contempt, alone. — 
Yet do our hearts wear Timoris livery, 
That see I by our faces ; we are fellows still, 
Serving alike in sorrow : Leak'd is our bark ; 
And we, poor mates, stand on the dying deck, 
Hearing the surges threat : we must all part 
Into this sea of air. 

TIMON OF ATHENS, A, 4, S. 2. 



3 1 2 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

POWER DANGEROUS TO ITS 

POSSESSOR WITHOUT CONSCIENCE 

Bolingbkoke. Mistake not, uncle, further 

than you should. 
York. Take not, good cousin, further than 
you should, 
Lest you mis-take : The heavens are o'er your 
head. 
Bolikgl I know it, uncle ; and oppose not 
Myself against their will. 

K. RICHARD II., A. 3, S. 3. 



POWER DANGEROUS WITH WEAK 

HEADS. 

It must be by his death : and, for my part, 
I know no personal cause to spurn at him, 
But for the general. He would be crown' d : — 
How that might change his nature, there's the 

question. 
It is the bright day, that brings forth the adder, 
And that craves wary walking. Crown him ? — 

That ;— 
And then, I grant, we put a sting in him, 
That at his will he may do danger with. 
The abuse of greatness is, when it disjoins 
Remorse from power: And, to speak truth of 

Caesar, 
I have not known when his affections sway'd 
More than his reason. But 'tis a common 

proof, 
That lowliness is young ambition's ladder, 
Whereto the climber-upward turns his face : 
But when he once attains the utmost round, 
He then unto the ladder turns his back, 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 3 1 3 

Looks in the clouds, scorning the base degrees 
By which he did ascend : So Ccesar may ; 
Then, lest he may, prevent. And, since the 

quarrel 
Will bear no colour for the thing he is, 
Fashion it thus ; that what he is, augmented, 
Would run to these, and these extremities : 
And therefore think him as a serpent's egg, 
Which, hatch' d, would, as his kind, grow mis- 
chievous ; 
And kill him in the shell. 

JULIUS CiESAR, A. 2, S. 1. 



POWER OF BEAUTY. 

Suffolk:. Be what thou wilt, thou art my 
prisoner. [ Gazes on her. 

fairest beauty, do not fear, nor fly ; 

For I will touch thee but with reverent hands, 
And lay them gently on thy tender side. 

1 kiss these fingers \_kissing her hand'] for eternal 

peace : 
Who art thou ? say, that I may honour thee. 

Margaret. Margaret my name ; and daughter 
to a king, 
The king of Naples, whosoe'er thou art. 

Suf. An earl I am, and Suffolk am I call'd. 
Be not offended, nature's miracle, 
Thou art allotted to be ta'en by me : 
So doth the swan her downy cygnets save, 
Keeping them prisoners underneath her wings. 
Tet it this servile usage once offend, 
Go, and be free again, as Suffolk's friend. 

. [She turns aioay, as going. 
O, stay ! — I have no power to let her pass ; 
My hand would free her, but my heart says — no. 



3 1 4 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

As plays the sun upon the glassy streams, 
Twinkling another counterfeited beam, 
So seems this gorgeous beauty to mine eyes. 
Pain would I woo her, yet I dare not speak : 
I'll call for pen and ink, and write my mind : 
Fye, Be la Poole ! disable not thyself; 
Hast not a tongue ? is she not here thy prisoner? 
"Wilt thou be daunted at a woman's sight ? 
Ay; beauty's princely majesty is such, 
Confounds the tongue, and makes the senses 

rough. 
How canst thou tell, she will deny thy suit, 
Before thou make a trial of her love ? 
She's beautiful ; and therefore to be woo'd : 
She is a woman ; therefore to be won. 

K. HENRY VI., PART I., A. 5, S. 3. 



POWER OF BEAUTY. 

I hate surely seen him : 
His favour is familiar to me. — 
Boy, thou hast look'd thyself into my grace, 
And art mine own. — I know not why, nor 

wherefore, 
To say, live, boy : ne'er thank thy master ; live : 
And ask of Cymleline what boon thou wilt, 
Pitting my bounty, and thy state, I'll give it ; 
Tea, though thou do demand a prisoner, 
The noblest ta'en. 

CYMBELINE, A. 5, S. 5. 



POWER OF CHANGE. 

One fire burns out another's burning, 

One pain is lessen'd by another's anguish ; 
Turn giddy, and be holp by backward turning ; 



WILLIAM SHAKESBEABE. 3 1 5 

One desperate grief cures with another's lan- 
guish : 
Take thou some new infection to the eye, 
And the rank poison of the old will die. 

ROMEO AND JULIET, A. 1, S. 2. 



POWER OF CONSCIENCE. 

The heaviness and guilt within my bosom 
Takes off my manhood : I have belied a lady, 
The princess of this country, and the air on't 
Revengingly enfeebles me ; or, could this carl, 
A very drudge of nature's, have subdu'd me, 
In my profession ? Knighthoods and honours, 

borne 
As I wear mine, are titles but of scorn. 
If that thy gentry, Britain, go before 
This lout, as he exceeds our lords, the odds 
Is, that we scarce are men, and you are gods. 

CYMBELINE, A. 5, S. 2. 



POWER OF FAITH. 

'Tiscall'd the evil: 
A most miraculous work in this good king : 
Which often, since my here-remain in England, 
I have seen him do. How he solicits heaven, 
Himself best knows : but strangely- visited people, 
All swoln and ulcerous, pitiful to the eye, 
The mere despair of surgery, he cures ; 
Hanging a golden stamp about their necks, 
Put on with holy prayers : and 'tis spoken, 
To the succeeding royalty he leaves 
The healing benediction. AViththis strange virtue, 



3 1 6 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

He hath a heavenly gift of prophecy ; 

And sundry blessings hang about his throne, 

That speak him full of grace. 

MACBETH, A. 4, S. 3. 



POWER OF IMAGINATION. 

"Why, then 'tis none to you: for there is 
nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes 
it so. 

HAMLET, A. 2. S. 2. 



POWER OFT RENDERS ITS POS- 
SESSOR CONSCIOUS OF MUCH 
UNHAPPINESS. 

How many thousand of my poorest subjects 
Are at this hour asleep ! — Sleep, gentle sleep, 
Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee, 
That thou no more wilt weigh my eye-lids down, 
And steep my senses in forgetfulness ? 
Why rather, sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs, 
Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee, 
And hush'd with buzzing night-flies to thy 

slumber ; 
Than in the perfum'd chambers of the great, 
Under the canopies of costly state, 
And lull'd with sounds of sweetest melody ? 
O thou dull god, why liest thou with the vile, 
In loathsome beds ; and leav'st the kingly couch, 
A watch-case, or a common 'larum bell ? 
Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast 
Seal up the ship-boy's eyes, and rock his brains 
In cradle of the rude imperious surge ; 
And in the visitation of the winds, 
Who take the ruffian billows by the top, 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 3 1 7 

Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging 

them 
"With deaf 'ning clamours in the slippery clouds, 
That, with the hurly, death itself awakes ? 
Can'st thou, O partial sleep ! give thy repose 
To the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude ; 
And, in the calmest and most stillest night, 
With all appliances and means to boot, 
Deny it to a king ? Then, happy low, lie down ! 
Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown. 

K. HENRY IV., PART II., A. 3, S. 1. 



PRAYER OF A DISCONTENTED 

SPIRIT. 

How now, Ther sites ? what, lost in the 
labyrinth of thy fury ? Shall the elephant 
Ajax carry it thus ? he beats me, and I rail at 
him: O worthy satisfaction! 'would it were 
otherwise; that I could beat him, whilst he 
railed at me: 'Sfoot, I'll learn to conjure and 
raise devils, but I'll see some issue of my spite- 
ful execrations. Then there's Achilles, — a rare 
engineer. If Troy be not taken till these two 
undermine it, the walls will stand till they fall 
of themselves. thou great thunder- darter of 
Olympus, forget that thou art Jove the king of 
gods ; and, Mercury, lose all the serpentine craft 
of thy Caduceus ; if ye take not that little less- 
than-little wit from them that they have ! which 
short-armed ignorance itself knows is so abundant 
scarce, it will not in circumvention deliver a fly 
from a spider, without drawing their massy irons, 
and cutting the web. After this, the vengeance 
on the whole camp ! or, rather, the bone-ache ! 



3 1 8 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

for that, methinks, is the curse dependent on 
those that war for a placket. I have said my 
prayers ; and devil, envy, say Amen. 

TROILUS AND CRESSIDA, A. 2, S. 3. 



PKECIOUSNESS OF CHARACTER. 

Good name, in man, and woman, 
Is the immediate jewel of their souls : 
Who steals my purse, steals trash; 'tis some- 
thing, nothing ; 
'Twas mine, tis his, and has been slave to 

thousands ; 
But he, that filches from me my good name, 
Robs me of that, which not enriches him, 
And makes me poor indeed. 

OTHELLO, A. 3, S. 3. 



PREJUDICES OF THE MULTITUDE 

AGAINST FAVOURITES. 

Sies, stand apart; the king shall know your 
mind. — [Speaking to those within. 

Dread lord, the commons send you word by me, 
Unless false Suffolk straight be done to death, 
Or banished fair England's territories, 
They will by violence tear him from your palace, 
And torture him with grievous ling'ring death. 
They say, by him the good duke Humphrey died ; 
They say, in him they fear your highness' death ; 
And mere instinct of love, and loyalty, — 
Free from a stubborn opposite intent, 
As being thought to contradict your liking, — 
Makes them thus forward in his banishment. 
They say, in care of your most royal person, 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 3 1 9 

That, if your highness should intend to sleep, 
And charge — that no man should disturb your 

rest, 
In pain of your dislike, or pain of death ; 
Tet notwithstanding such a straight edict, 
Were there a serpent seen, with forked tongue, 
That slily glided towards your majesty, 
It were but necessary you were wak'd ; 
Lest, being suffer'd in that harmful slumber, 
The mortal worm might make the sleep eterna] 
And therefore do they cry, though you forbid, 
That they will guard you, whe'r you will, or no, 
From such fell serpents as false Suffolk is ; 
With whose envenomed and fatal sting, 
Tour loving uncle, twenty times his worth, 
They say, is shamefully bereft of life. 

K. HENRY VI., PART II., A. 3, S. 2 



PREMATURE MARRIAGE. 

Yotogee, than she are happy mothers made. 
And too soon marr'd are those so early made. 

ROMEO AND JULIET, A. 1, S. 2. 



PRESAGES OF DEATH, AND DE- 
PARTURE OF THE SOUL. 

P. Hexey. It is too late ; the life of all his 
blood 
Is touch' d corruptibly ; and his pure brain 
(Which some suppose the soul's frail dwelling- 
house,) 
Doth, by the idle comments that it makes, 
Foretell the ending of mortality. 



3 20 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Let him be brought into the orchard here.— 
Doth he still rage ? 

vanity of sickness ! fierce extremes, 

In their continuance, will not feel themselves. 
Death, having prey'd upon the outward parts, 
Leaves them insensible ; and his siege is now 
Against the mind, the which he pricks and 

wounds 
With many legions of strange fantasies ; 
"Which, in their throng and press to that last 

hold, 
Confound themselves. 'Tis strange, that death 

should sing. 

1 am the cygnet to this pale faint swan, 
Who chants a doleful hymn to his own death ; 
And, from the organ-pipe of frailty, sings 
His soul and body to their lasting rest. 

K. John. Ay, marry, now my soul hath 

elbow-room ; 
It would not out at windows, nor at doors. 
There is so hot a summer in my bosom, 
That all my bowels crumble up to dust : 
I am a scribbled form, drawn with a pen 
Upon a parchment ; and against -this fire 
Do I shrink up. 

P. Hen. How fares your majesty ? 

K. John. Poison' d, — ill fare ; — dead, forsook, 

cast off: 
And none of you will bid the winter come, 
To thrust his icy fingers in my maw ; 
Nor let my kingdom's rivers take their course 
Through my burn'd bosom; nor entreat the 

north 
To make his bleak winds kiss my parched lips, 
And comfort me with cold : — I do not ask you 

much, 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 3 2 1 

I beg cold comfort ; and you are so strait, 
And so ingrateful, you deny me that. 

P. Hen. O, that there were some virtue in 
my tears, 
That might relieve you ! 

K. John. The salt in them is hot. — 

Within me is a hell ; and there the poison 
Is, as a fiend, confin'd to tyrannize 
On unreprievable condemned blood. 
Bastard. O, I am scalded with my violent 
motion, 
And spleen of speed to see your majesty. 

K. John. cousin, thou art come to set 
mine eye : 
The tackle of my heart is crack'd and burn'd ; 
And all the shrouds, wherewith my life should 

sail, 
Are turned to one thread, one little hair : 
My heart hath one poor string to stay it by, 
Which holds but till thy news be utter' d ; 
And then all this thou seest is but a clod, 
And module of confounded royalty. 

Bast. The Dauphin is preparing hitherward ; 
Where, heaven he knows, how we shall answer 

him: 
For, in a night, the best part of my power, 
As I upon advantage did remove, 
Were in the washes, all unwarily, 
Devour' d by the unexpected flood. 

[The King dies. 
Salisbury. You breathe these dead news in 
as dead an ear. — 
My liege! my lord! — But now a king, — now 
thus. 
P. Hen. Even so must I run on, and even so 
stop. 

Y 



322 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

What surety of the world, what hope, what stay 
"When this was now a king, and now is clay ? 

KING JOHN, A. 5, S. 7. 



PRESAGINGS OF EVIL. 

A mote it is, to trouble the mind's eye. 
In the most high and palmy state of Borne, 
A little ere the mightiest Julius fell, 
The graves stood tenantless, and the sheeted dead 
Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets. 
As, stars with trains of fire and dews of blood, 
Disasters in the sun ; and the moist star, 
Upon whose influence Neptune's empire stands, 
Was sick almost to dooms-day with eclipse. 
And even the like precurse of fierce events, — 
As harbingers preceding still the fates, 
And prologue to the omen coming on, — 
Have heaven and earth together demonstrated 
Unto our climatures and countrymen. — 

HAMLET, A. 1, S. 1. 



PRESCIENCE DEFECTIVE. 

He had not apprehension 
Of roaring terrors; for defect of judgment 
Is oft the cure of fear. 

CYMBELINE, A. 4, S. 2. 



PRESCIENCE OF CHARACTER AN 
ATTRIBUTE OF THE GREAT. 

Let me have men about me that are fat ; 
Sleek-headed men, and such as sleep o'nights : 
Tond' Cassius has a lean and hungry look ; 
He thinks too much : such men are dangerous. 



WILLIAM SRAKUSFUABU. 3 23 

'Would he were fatter : — But I fear him not : 

Yet if my name were liable to fear, 

I do not know the man I should avoid 

So soon as that spare Cassius. He reads much ; 

He is a great observer, and he looks 

Quite through the deeds of men : he loves no 

plays, 
As thou dost, Antony ; he hears no musick : 
Seldom he smiles ; and smiles in such a sort, 
As if he mock'd himself, and scorn'd his spirit 
That could be mov'd to smile at any thing. 
Such men as he be never at heart's ease, 
"Whiles they behold a greater than themselves ; 
And therefore are they very dangerous. 
I rather tell thee what is to be fear'd, 
Than what I fear, for always I am Ccesar. 
Come on my right hand, for this ear is deaf, 
And tell me truly what thou think' st of him. 

JULIUS CiESAR, A. 1, S. 2. 



PEESTIGE. 

Theee's such divinity doth hedge a king, 
That treason can but peep to what it would, 
Acts little of his will. 

HAMLET, A. 4, S. 5. 



PREVENTION BETTER THAN CURE. 

A little fire is quickly trodden out ; 
Which, being suffer' d, rivers cannot quench. 

K. HENRY VI., PART III., A. 4, S. 8. 



3 2 4 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

PRIDE. 

Such a nature, 
Tickled with good success, disdains the shadow 
Which he treads on at noon. 

CORIOLANUS, A. 1, S. 1. 



PRIDE OF BIRTH. 

G-lostek. I was born so high : 

Our aiery buildeth in the cedar's top, 
And dallies with the wind, and scorns the sun. 
Q. Margaret. And turns the sun to shade ; 

— alas! alas! 
Witness my son, now in the shade of death : 
Whose bright out-shining beams thy cloudy 

wrath 
Hath in eternal darkness folded up. 
Tour aiery buildeth in our aiery' s nest : — 
O God, that see'st it, do not suffer, it ; 
As it was won with blood, lost be it so ! 

Buckingham. Peace, peace, for shame, if not 

for charity. 
Q. Mar. Urge neither charity nor shame 

to me; 
Uncharitably with me have you dealt, 
And shamefully by you my hopes are butcher' d. 
My charity is outrage, life my shame, — 
And in my shame still live my sorrow's rage ! 

K. RICHARD III., A. 1, S. 3. 



PROCRASTINATION. 

In delay 
We waste our lights in vain, like lamps by day. 

ROMEO AND JULIET, A. 1, 8. 4. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 325 



PRODIGALITY. 

Yotj must consider, that a prodigal course 

Is like the sun's ; but not, like his, recoverable. 

TIMON OF ATHENS, A. 3, S. 4. 



QUARREL OF FRIENDS DOUBLY 
BITTER. 

Measureless liar, thou hast made my heart 
Too great for what contains it. Boy ! slave ! — 
Pardon me, lords, 'tis the first time that ever 
I was forc'd to scold. Your judgments, my 

grave lords, 
Must give this cur the lie : and his own notion 
(Who wears my stripes impress' d on him; that 

must bear 
My beating to his grave ;) shall join to thrust 
The lie unto him. 

Cut me to pieces, Volsces ; men and lads, 
Stain all your edges on me. — Boy ! False hound ! 
If you have writ your annals true, 'tis there, 
That like an eagle in a dove-cote, I 
Flutter' d your Volsces in Corioli : 
Alone I did it. — Boy ! 

CORIOLANUS, A. 5, S. 5. 



RANKS AND DEGREES. 

So man and man should be ; 
But clay and clay differs in dignity, 
"Whose dust is both alike. 

CYMBELINE, A. 4, S. 2. 



326 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

BECOGNITION IN THE FLESH. 

What! old acquaintance! could not all this 

flesh 
Keep in a little life ? Poor Jack, farewell ! 
I could have better spar'd a better man. 
O, I should have a heavy miss of thee, 
If I were much in love with vanity. 
Death hath not struck so fat a deer to-day, 
Though many dearer, in this bloody fray : — 
EmbowelTd will I see thee by and by : 
Till then, in blood by noble Percy lie. 

K. HENRY IV., PART I., A. 5, S. 4. 



KELIGIQUS FAITH MAKES 
OBSTINATE WABBIOBS. 

Come, we will all put forth ; body, and goods. 
'Tis more than time : And, my most noble lord, 

I hear for certain, and do speak the truth, 

The gentle archbishop of York is up, 
With well-appointed powers ; he is a man, 
Who with a double surety binds his followers. 
My lord your son had only but the corps, 
But shadows, and the shows of men, to fight : 
For that same word, rebellion, did divide 
The action of their bodies from their souls ; 
And they did fight with queasiness. constraint, 
As men drink potions ; that their weapons only 
Seem'd on our side, but, for their spirits and 

souls, 
This word, rebellion, it had froze them up, 
As fish are in a pond : But now the bishop 
Turns insurrection to religion : 
Suppos'd sincere and holy in his thoughts, 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 327 

He's follow' d both with body and with mind ; 

And doth enlarge his rising with the blood 

Of fair king Richard, scrap' d from Pomfret 

stones : 
Derives from heaven his quarrel, and his cause ; 
Tells them, he doth bestride a bleeding land, 
Grasping for life under great Bolinglrohe ; 
And more, and less, do flock to follow him. 

K. HENRY IV., PART II., A. 1, S. 1. 



REPENTANCE NEVER TOO LATE. 

Kathebine. Husband, let's follow, to see 

the end of this ado. 
Petbtjchio. First kiss me, Kate, and we will. 
Kath. What, in the midst of the street ? 
Pet. What, art thou ashamed of me ? 
Kath. No, sir ; God forbid : — but ashamed 

to kiss. 
Pet. Why, then, let's home again : — Come, 

sirrah, let's away. 
Kath:. Nay, I will give thee a kiss : now 

pray thee, love, stay. 
Pet. Is not this well? — Come, my sweet 

Kate ; 
Better once than never, for never too late. 

TAMING OF THE SHREW, A. 5, S. 1. 



REPENTANCE NEVER TOO LATE. 

Confess yourself to heaven; 
Repent what's past : avoid what is to come ; 
And do not spread the compost on the weeds, 
To make them ranker. 

HAMLET, A. 3, S. 4. 



328 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

REPOSE. 

Wisely, and slow ; They stumble, that run fast. 

ROMEO AND JULIET, A. 2, S. 3. 



REPUTATION NECESSARY FOR 

HAPPINESS. 

My dear, dear lord, 
The purest treasure mortal times afford, 
Is — spotless reputation ; that away, 
Men are but gilded loam, or painted clay. 
A jewel in a ten-times-barr'd-up chest 
Is — a bold spirit in a loyal breast. 
Mine honour is my life ; both grow in one ; 
Take honour from me, and my life is done : 
Then, dear my liege, mine honour let me try ; 
In that I live, and for that will I die. 

K. RICHARD II., A. 1, S. 1. 



SACREDNESS OF MARRIAGE. 

C^sar. Tou take from me a great part of 
myself; 
Use me well in it. — Sister, prove such a wife 
As my thoughts make thee, and as my furthest 

band 
Shall pass on thy approof. — Most noble Antony, 
Let not the piece of virtue, which is set 
Betwixt us, as the cement of our love, 
To keep it builded, be the ram, to batter 
The fortress of it : for better might we 
Have loved without this mean, if on both parts 
This be not cherish' d. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 3 29 

Antony. You shall not find, 

Though you be therein curious, the least cause 
For what you seem to fear : So, the gods keep 

you, 

And make the hearts of Romans serve your ends ! 
We will here part. 

C^:s. Farewell, my dearest sister, fare thee 

well; 
The elements be kind to thee, and make 
Thy spirits all of comfort ! fare thee well. 

Ant. The April's in her eyes : It is love's 

spring, 
And these the showers to bring it on. — Be 

cheerful. 
Her tongue will not obey her heart, nor can 
Her heart inform her tongue : the swan's down 

feather, 
That stands upon the swell at full of tide, 
And neither way inclines. 

ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA, A. 3, S. 2. 



SECURITY IS MORTAL'S CHIEFEST 
ENEMY. 

1st Witch. Why, how now, Hecate? you 
look angerly. 

Hecate. Have I not reason, beldams as you 
are, 
Saucy, and over-bold ? How did you dare 
To trade and trafiick with Maeleth, 
In riddles, and affairs of death, 
And I, the mistress of your charms, 
The close contriver of all harms, 
Was never call'd to bear my part, 
Or show the glory of our art ? 



330 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

And, which is worse, all you have done, 

Hath been but for a wayward son, 

Spiteful, and wrathful : who, as others do, 

Loves for his own ends, not for you. 

But make amends now : Get you gone, 

And at the pit of Acheron 

Meet me i'the morning ; thither he 

Will come to know his destiny. 

Tour vessels, and your spells, provide, 

Tour charms, and everything beside. 

I am for the air ; this night I'll spend 

Unto a dismal-fatal end. 

Great business must be wrought ere noon : 

Upon the corner of the moon 

There hangs a vaporous drop profound ; 

I'll catch it ere it comes to ground : 

And that, distill' d by magick slights, 

Shall raise such artificial sprights, 

As, by the strength of their illusion, 

Shall draw him on to his confusion : 

He shall spurn fate, scorn death, and bear 

His hopes 'bove wisdom, grace, and fear : 

And you all know, security 

Is mortal's chiefest enemy. 

Hark, I am call'd; my little spirit, see, 

Sits in a foggy cloud, and stays for me. 

MACBETH, A. 3, S. 5. 



SEEING CONTRART. 

Never man so chang'd: 
I told him of the army that was landed ; 
He smil'd at it : I told him, you were coming ; 
His answer was, The worse: of Gloster' s treachery, 
And of the loyal service of his son, 
"When I inform' d him, then he call'd him sot ; 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 3 3 1 

And told me, I had turn'd the wrong side out: — | 
"What most he should dislike, seems pleasant to ! 

him; 
What like, offensive. 

KING LEAR, A. 4, S. 2. 



SELF-MURDER. 

We would not understand what was most fit ; 
But, like the owner of a foul disease, 
To keep it from divulging, let it feed 
Even on the pith of life. 

HAMLET, A. 4, S. 1. 



SHORT-LIV'D WITS WITHER AS 
THEY GROW. 

Maeia. I know him, madam ; at a marriage 
feast, 
Between lord Perigort and the beauteous heir 
Of Jaques Falconbridge solemnized, 
In Normandy saw I this Longaville : 
A man of sovereign parts he is esteem' d ; 
Well fitted in the arts, glorious in arms : 
Nothing becomes him ill, that he would well. 
The only soil of his fair virtue's gloss, 
(If virtue's gloss will stain with any soil,) 
Is a sharp wit match' d with too blunt a will ; 
Whose edge hath power to cut, whose will still wills 
It should none spare that come within his power. 
Pbistcess. Some merry mocking lord, belike; 

is't so ? 
Mae. They say so most, that most his 

humours know. 
Pehs - . Such short-liv'd wits do wither as 
they grow. 

love's labour's lost, a. 2, s. 1. 



3 3 2 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 



SHORT-SIGHTEDNESS OF AMBITION. 

Dreams, indeed, are ambition; for the very- 
substance of the ambitious is merely the shadow 
of a dream. 

HAMLET, A. 2, S. 2. 



SHUN THE GARRULOUS AND THE 
COVETOUS. 

Amiens. Well, I'll end the song. — Sirs, 
cover the while ; the duke will drink under 
this tree: — he hath been all this day to look 
you. 

Jaques. And I have been all this day to 
avoid him. He is too disputable for my com- 
pany : I think of as many matters as he ; but I 
give heaven thanks, and make no boast of them. 
Come, warble, come. 

SONG. 

Who doth ambition shun, 
And loves to live Vthe sun, 
Seeking the food he eats, 
And pleased with what he gets, 
Come hither, come hither, come hither ; 
Here shall he see 
No enemy, 
But winter and rough weather. 

AS YOU LIKE IT, A. 2, S. 5. 



SIGNS FORETELL EVENTS. 

K. Henry. How bloodily the sun begins to 
peer 



WILLIAM SHAKESFEABE. 3 3 3 

Above yon busky hill ! the day looks pale 
At his distemperature. 

P. He^et. The southern wind 

Doth play the trumpet to his purposes ; 
And, by his hollow whistling in the leaves, 
Foretells a tempest, and a blustering day. 

K. HENRY IV., PART I., A. 5, S. 1. 



SIGNS OF MURDER 

See, how the blood is settled in his face ! 
Oft have I seen a timely-parted ghost, 
Of ashy semblance, meagre, pale, and bloodless, 
Being all descended to the labouring heart ; 
"Who, in the conflict that it holds with death, 
Attracts the same for aidance 'gainst the enemy; 
Which with the heart there cools, and ne'er re- 

turneth 
To blush and beautify the cheek again. 
But, see, his face is black, and full of blood ; 
His eye-balls further out than when he liv'd, 
Staring full ghastly like a strangled man : 
His hair uprear'd, his nostrils stretch' d with 

struggling; 
His hands abroad display' d, as one that grasp' d 
And tugg'd for life, and was by strength subdu'd. 
Look on the sheets, his hair, you see, is sticking; 
His well-proportion'd beard made rough and 

rugged, 
Like to the summer's corn by tempest lodg'd. 
It cannot be, but he was murder' d here ; 
The least of all these signs were probable. 

K. HENRY VI., PART II., A. 3, S. 2. 



334 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

SIGNS OF SPECIAL INTERPOSITION. 
Casca. Are not you mov'd, when all the 

sway of earth 
Shakes, like a thing unfirm ? O Cicero, 
I have seen tempests, when the scolding winds 
Have riv'd the knotty oaks ; and I have seen 
The ambitious ocean swell, and rage, and foam, 
To be exalted with the threat'ning clouds ; 
But never till to-night, never till now, 
Did I go through a tempest dropping fire. 
Either there is a civil strife in heaven, 
Or else the world, too saucy with the gods, 
Incenses them to send destruction. 

Ciceeo. Why, saw you any thing more 

wonderful ? 
Casca. A common slave (you know him well 

by sight,) 
Held up his left hand, which did flame, and burn 
Like twenty torches join'd ; and yet his hand, 
Not sensible of fire, remain' d unscorch'd. 
Besides, (I have not since put up my sword,) 
Against the Capitol I met a lion, 
Who glar'd upon me, and went surly by, 
"Without annoying me : and there were drawn 
Upon a heap a hundred ghastly women, 
Transformed with their fear ; who swore, they 

saw 
Men, all in fire, walk up and down the streets. 
And, yesterday, the bird of night did sit, 
Even at noon- day, upon the market-place, 
Hooting and shrieking. When these prodigies 
Do so conjointly meet, let not men say, 
These are their reasons, — They are natural ; 
Eor, I believe, they are portentous things 
Unto the climate that they point upon. 

JULIUS C-ESAB, A. 1, S. 3. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 3 3 5 

SIN ENGENDERS SIN. 

We have scotch' d the snake, not kill'd it ; 
She'll close, and be herself; whilst our poor 

malice 
Eemains in danger of her former tooth. 
But let 
The frame of things disjoint, both the worlds 

suffer, 
Ere we will eat our meal in fear, and sleep 
In the affliction of these terrible dreams, 
That shake us nightly : Better be with the dead, 
Whom we, to gain our place, have sent to peace, 
Than on the torture of the mind to lie 
In restless ecstacy. Duncan is in his grave ; 
After life's fitful fever, he sleeps well ; 
Treason has done his worst : nor steel, nor 

poison, 
Malice domestick, foreign levy, nothing, 
Can touch him further ! 

MACBETH, A. 3, S. 2. 



SINGLENESS PREFERABLE WHEN 
THE HEART CANNOT ACCOMPANY 
THE HAND. 

Theseus. Therefore, fair Hermia, question 
your desires, 
Know of your youth, examine well your blood, 
Whether, if you yield not to your father's choice, 
Tou can endure the livery of a nun ; 
For aye to be in shady cloister mew'd, 
To live a barren sister all your life, 
Chanting faint hymns to the cold fruitless moon. 
Thrice blessed they, that master so their blood, 
To undergo such maiden pilgrimage : 



336 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

But earthlier happy is the rose distill'd, 

Than that, which, withering on the virgin thorn, 

Grows, lives, and dies, in single blessedness. 

Hermia. So will I grow, so live, so die, my 
lord, 
Ere I will yield my virgin patent up 
Unto his lordship, whose unwished yoke 
My soul consents not to give sovereignty. 

The. Take time to pause ; and, by the next 
new moon, 
(The sealing-day betwixt my love and me, 
Tor everlasting bond of fellowship,) 
Upon that day either prepare to die, 
For disobedience to your father's will, 
Or else, to wed Demetrius, as he would : 
Or on Diana's altar to protest, 
For aye, austerity and single life. 

MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM, A. 1, S. 1. 



SIN OF INGRATITUDE. 

The sin of my ingratitude even now 
"Was heavy on me : Thou art so far before, 
That swiftest wing of recompence is slow 
To overtake thee. 'Would thou hadst less 

deserv'd; 
That the proportion both of thanks and payment 
Might have been mine ! only I have left to say, 
More is thy due than more than all can pay. 

MACBETH, A. 1, S. 4. 



SLEEP. 



Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye, 
And where care lodges, sleep will never lie ; 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 337 

But where unbruised youth, with unstufPd 

brain 
Doth couch his limbs, there golden sleep doth 

reign. 

ROMEO AND JULIET, A. 2, S. 3. 



SMOOTH WATEKS RUN DEEP. 

Violent delights have violent ends, 

And in their triumph die ; like fire and powder, 

"Which, as they kiss, consume: The sweetest 

honey 
Is loathsome in his own deliciousness, 
And in the taste confounds the appetite : 
Therefore, love moderately ; long love doth so ; 
Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow. 

ROMEO AND JULIET, A. 2, S. 6. 



SOLITUDE ENJOYED BY CONTRAST. 

How use doth breed a habit in a man. 
This shadowy desert, unfrequented woods, 
I better brook than flourishing peopled towns. 
Here can I sit alone, unseen of any, 
And to the nightingale's complaining notes, 
Tune my distresses, and record my woes. 
thou that dost inhabit in my breast, 
Leave not the mansion so long tenantless ; 
Lest, growing ruinous, the building fall, 
And leave no memory of what it was ! 
Repair me with thy presence, Silvia ; 
Thou gentle nymph, cherish thy forlorn swain ! 

TWO GENTLEMEN OF VEHONA, A. 5, S. 4. 



3 3 8 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 



SORROW. 

The bird is dead, 
That we have made so much on. I had rather 
Have skipp'd from sixteen years of age to sixty, 
To have turn'd my leaping time into a crutch, 
Than have seen this. 
O sweetest, fairest lily ! 

CTMBELINE, A. 4, S. 2. 



SOUR BIGOTRY WORRYING 
CHARITY. 

Chancellor. My good lord archbishop, I 
am very sorry 
To sit here at this present, and behold 
That chair stand empty : But we all are men, 
In our own natures frail ; and capable 
Of our flesh, few are angels : out of which frailty, 
And want of wisdom, you, that best should 

teach us, 
Have misdemean'd yourself, and not a little, 
Toward the king first, then his laws, in filling 
The whole realm, by your teaching, and your 

chaplains, 
(For so we are inform' d,) with new opinions, 
Divers and dangerous ; which are heresies, 
And, not reform' d, may prove pernicious. 

Gardiner. Which reformation must be sud- 
den too, 
My noble lords : for those that tame wild horses, 
Pace them not in their hands to make them 

gentle ; 
But stop their mouths with stubborn bits, and 

spur them, 
Till they obey the manage. If we suffer 



WILLIAM SHAEESPEABE. 339 

(Out of our easiness, and childish pity 
To one man's honour) this contagious sickness, 
Farewell, all physick ; And what follows then ? 
Commotions, uproars, with a general taint 
Of the whole state : as, of late days, our neigh- 
bours, 
The upper Germany, can dearly witness, 
Tet freshly pitied in our memories. 

Ceanmee. My good lords, hitherto, in all 
the progress 
Both of my life and office, I have labour' d, 
And witli no little study, that my teaching, 
And the strong course of my authority, 
Might go one way, and safely ; and the end 
Was ever to do well : nor is there living 
(I speak it with a single heart, my lords,) 
A man that more detests, more stirs against, 
Both in his private conscience, and his place, 
Defacers of a publick peace, than I do. 
'Pray heaven, the king may never find a heart 
With less allegiance in it ! Men, that make 
Envy, and crooked malice, nourishment, 
Dare bite the best. I do beseech your lordships, 
That, in this case of justice, my accusers, 
Be what they will, may stand forth face to face, 
And freely urge against me. 

Suffolk. Nay, my lord, 

That cannot be ; you are a counsellor, 
And, by that virtue, no man dare accuse you. 

G-ae. My lord, because we have business of 
more moment, 
We will be short with you. 'Tis his highness' 

pleasure, 
And our consent, for better trial of you, 
From hence you be committed to the Tower, 
Where, being but a private man again, 



34o THJE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Tou shall know many dare accuse you boldly, 
More than, I fear, you are provided for. 

Cean. Ah, my good lord of Winchester, I 
thank you, 
Tou are always my good friend ; if your will 



I shall both find your lordship judge and juror, 
Tou are so merciful : I see your end, 
'Tis my undoing : Love and meekness, lord, 
Become a churchman better than ambition ; 
Win straying souls with modesty again, 
Cast none away. That I shall clear myself, 
Lay all the weight ye can upon my patience, 
I make as little doubt, as you do conscience, 
In doing daily wrongs. I could say more, 
But reverence to your calling makes me modest. 

G-ae. My lord, my lord, you are a sectary, 
That's the plain truth ; your painted gloss dis- 
covers, 
To men that understand you, words and weakness. 

Ceomwell. My lord of Winchester, you are 
a little, 
By your good favour, too sharp ; men so noble, 
However faulty, yet should find respect 
For what they have been : 'tis a cruelty, 
To load a falling man. 

K. HENBY VIII., A. 5, S. 2. 



STMPATHT OF THE AFFECTIONS. 

Duke. Thou dost speak masterly : 
My life upon't, young though thou art, thine eye 
Hath stay'd upon some favour that it loves ; 
Hath it not, boy ? 

Viola. A little, by your favour. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 341 

Duke, What kind of woman is't ? 

Vio. Of jour complexion. 

Duke. She is not worth thee then. What 
years, i' faith ? 

Vio. About your years, my lord. 

Duke. Too old, by heaven; Let still the 
woman take 
An elder than herself ; so wears she to him, 
So sways she level in her husband's heart. 
For, boy, however we do praise ourselves, 
Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm, 
More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn, 
Than women's are. 

Vio. I think it well, my lord. 

Duke. Then let thy love be younger than 
thyself, 
Or thy affection cannot hold the bent : 
Por women are as roses ; whose fair flower, 
Being once display' d, doth fall that very hour. 

Vio. And so they are: alas, that they are 
so ; 
To die, even when they to perfection grow ! 

TWELFTH NIGHT, A. 2, S. 4. 



SPIKITS SYMPATHIZE WITH 
HUMANITY. 

Peospeeo. Say, my spirit, 

How fares the king and his ? 

Aeiel. Confin'd together 

In the same fashion as you gave in charge ; 
Just as you left them, sir ; all prisoners 
In the lime-grove which weather-fends your 

cell; 
They cannot budge, till your release. The 
king, 



342 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

His brother, and yours, abide all three dis- 
tracted ; 
And the remainder mourning over them, 
Brim-full of sorrow and dismay ; but chiefly 
Him you term'd, sir, The good old lord, Gonzalo; 
His tears run down his beard, like winter's drops 
From eaves of reeds : your charm so strongly 

works them, 
That if you now beheld them, your affections 
"Would become tender. 

Pro. Dost thou think so, spirit ? 

Ari. Mine would, sir, were I human. 

Peo. And mine shall. 

Hast thou, which art but air, a touch, a feeling 
Of their afflictions ? and shall not myself, 
One of their kind, that relish all as sharply, 
Passion as they, be kindlier mov'd than thou art? 
Though with their high wrongs I am struck to 

the quick, 
Yet, with my nobler reason 'gainst my fury 
Do I take part : the rarer action is 
In virtue than in vengeance: they being penitent, 
The sole drift of my purpose doth extend 
Not a frown further : Go, release them, Ariel ; 
My charms I'll break, their senses I'll restore, 
And they shall be themselves. 

Ari. I'll fetch them, sir. 

TEMPEST, A. 5, S. 1. 



THAT WHAT WE HAVE WE PRIZE 

NOT TO THE WORTH WHILES WE 

ENJOY IT. 

Pause a while, 
And let my counsel sway you in this case. 
Tour daughter here the princes left for dead ; 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 343 

Let her awhile be secretly kept in, 

And publish it that she is dead indeed : 

Maintain a mourning ostentation ; 

And on your family's old monument 

Hang mournful epitaphs, and do all rites 

That appertain unto a burial. 

This, well carried, shall on her behalf 

Change slander to remorse ; that is some good : 

But not for that, dream I on this strange course, 

But on this travail look for greater birth. 

She dying, as it must be so maintain' d, 

Upon the instant that she was accus'd, 

Shall be lamented, pitied, and excus'd, 

Of every hearer : For it so falls out, 

That what we have we prize not to the worth, 

Whiles we enjoy it ; but being lack'd and lost, 

"Why, then we rack the value, then we find 

The virtue, that possession would not show us 

Whiles it was ours : So will it fare with Claudio: 

When he shall hear she died upon his words, 

The idea of her life shall sweetly creep 

Into his study of imagination ; 

And every lovely organ of her life 

Shall come apparell'd in more precious habit, 

More moving-delicate, and full of life, 

Into the eye and prospect of his soul, 

Than when she liv'd indeed: — then shall he 

mourn, 
And wish he had not so accused her ; 
No, though he thought his accusation true. 

MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING, A. 4, S. 1. 



344 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

STATESMEN^ JEALOUSIES IN 
OLDEN TIME. 

Wolsey. All goodness 

Is poison to thy stomach. 

Surrey. Yes, that goodness 

Of gleaning all the land's wealth into one, 
Into your own hands, cardinal, by extortion ; 
The goodness of your intercepted packets, 
Tou writ to the pope, against the king: your 

goodness, 
Since you provoke me, shall be most notorious. — 
My lord of Norfolk, as you are truly noble, 
As you respect the common good, the state 
Of our despis'd nobility, our issues, 
Who, if he live, will scarce be gentlemen, — 
Produce the grand sum of his sins, the articles 
Collected from his life : — I'll startle you 
Worse than the sacring bell, when the brown 

wench 
Lay kissing in your arms, lord cardinal. 

Wol. How much, methinks, I could despise 
this man, 
But that I am bound in charity against it ! 

K. HENRY VIII., A. 3, S. 2. 



STATE WATCH. 

Madness in great ones must not unwatch'd go. 

HAMLET, A. 3, S. 1 

STEEL WELL TEMPERED. 

Happy are they that hear their detractions, 
and can put them to mending. 

MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING, A. 2, S. 3. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPUABLJ. 34.5 



STKENGTH OR WEAKNESS IN 
USE OR ABUSE. 

thou invisible spirit of wine, if thou hast 
no name to be known by, let us call thee — 
devil! 0, that men should put an enemy in 
their mouths, to steal away their brains! that 
we should, with joy, revel, pleasure, and applause, 
transform ourselves into beasts ! 

OTHELLO, A. 2, S.3. 



STUDY AND PLEASURE SHOULD 
GO HAND IN HAND. 

Mi per donate, gentle master mine, 

I am in all affected as yourself ; 

Glad that you thus continue your resolve, 

To suck the sweets of sweet philosophy. 

Only, good master, while we do admire 

This virtue, and this moral discipline, 

Let's be no stoicks, nor no stocks, I pray; 

Or so devote to Aristotle's checks, 

As Ovid be an outcast quite abjur'd : 

Talk logick with acquaintance that you have, 

And practise rhetorick in your common talk : 

Musick and poesy use to quicken you ; 

The mathematicks and the metaphysicks, 

Fall to them, as you find your stomach serves 

you : 
No profit grows, where is no pleasure ta'en ; — 
In brief, sir, study what you most affect. 

TAMING OF THE SHREW, A. 1, S. 1. 



346 TEE PHILOSOPHY OF 



SUNSET. 

The weary sun hath made a golden set, 
And, by the bright track of his fiery car, 
Gives token of a goodly day to-morrow. 

X. RICHARD III., A. 5, S. 3. 



SURFACE LOVE UNCERTAIN. 

Julia. Behold her that gave aim to all thy 

oaths, 
And entertain' d them deeply in her heart : 
How oft hast thou with perjury cleft the root ! 
O Proteus, let this habit make thee blush ! 
Be thou asham'd, that I have took upon me 
Such an immodest raiment ; if shame live 
In a disguise of love : 
It is the lesser blot, modesty finds, 
"Women to change their shapes, than men their 

minds. 
Proteus. Than men their minds ! 'tis true ; 

heaven ! were man 
But constant, he were perfect : that one error 
Tills him with faults ; makes him run through 

all sins : 
Inconstancy falls off, ere it begins : 
"What is in Silvia's face, but I may spy 
More fresh in Julia's with a constant eye ? 

TWO GENTLEMEN OP VERONA, A. 5, S.4. 



SWEETNESS OF MIND. 

Nobly he yokes 
A smiling with a sigh : as if the sigh 
"Was that it was, for not being such a smile ; 



WILLIAM SRAKUSFUABU. 347 

The smile mocking the sigh, that it would fly 
Erom so divine a temple, to commix 
With winds that sailors rail at. 

CYMBELINE, A. 4, S. 2. 



SYMPATHIES AND ANTIPATHIES. 

Shtlock. My meaning, in saying he is a 
good man, is to have you understand me, that 
he is sufficient: yet his means are in supposition: 
he hath an argosy bound to Trijpolis, another to 
the Indies; I understand moreover upon the 
Bialto, he hath a third at Mexico, a fourth for 

England, and other ventures he hath, squan- 

der'd abroad ; But ships are but boards, sailors 
but men: there be land-rats, and water-rats, 
water-thieves, and land-thieves ; I mean, pirates ; 
and then there is the peril of waters, winds, and 
rocks: The man is, notwithstanding, sufficient; — 
three thousand ducats ; — I think, I may take his 
bond. 

Bassanio. Be assured you may. 

Shy. I will be assured, I may ; and, that I 
may be assured, I will bethink me : May I speak 
with Antonio ? 

Bass. If it please you to dine with us. 

Shy. Tes, to smell pork ; to eat of the habi- 
tation which your prophet, theNazarite, conjured 
the devil into: I will buy with you, sell with 
you, talk with you, walk with you, and so fol- 
lowing ; but I will not eat with you, drink with 
you, nor pray with you. 

MERCHANT OF TENICE, A. 1, S. 3. 



348 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 



SYMPATHY. 

Good fellows all, 
The latest of my wealth I'll share amongst yon. 
Wherever we shall meet, for TimorCs sake, 
Let's yet be fellows ; let's shake onr heads, and 

say, 
As 'twere a knell unto our master's fortune, 
We heme seen tetter days. Let each take some ; 

[ Giving them money. 
Nay, put out all your hands. Not one word 

more: 
Thus part we rich in sorrow, parting poor. 

TIMON OF ATHENS, A. 4, S. 2. 



SYMPATHY OF COURAGE. 

They have a leader, 
Tullus Aujidius, that will put you to't. 
I sin in envying his nobility : 
And were I anything but what I am, 
I would wish me only he. 
"Were half to half the world by the ears, and he 
Upon my party, I'd revolt, to make 
Only my wars with him : he is a lion 
That I am proud to hunt. 

CORIOLANUS, A. 1, S. 1. 



SYMPATHY OF HEROES. 

Lewis. My lord Melun, let this be copied 
out, 
And keep it safe for our remembrance : 
Return the precedent to these lords again ; 
That, having our fair order written down, 
Both they, and we, perusing o'er these notes, 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 349 

May know wherefore we took the sacrament, 
And keep our faiths firm and inviolable. 

Salisbury. Upon our sides it never shall be 

broken. 
And, noble Dauphin, albeit we swear 
A voluntary zeal, and unurg'd faith, 
To your proceedings ; yet, believe me, prince, 
I am not glad that such a sore of time 
Should seek a plaster by contemn' d revolt, 
And heal the inveterate canker of one wound, 
By making many : O, it grieves my soul, 
That I must draw this metal from my side 
To be a widow-maker ; 0, and there, 
Where honourable rescue, and defence, 
Cries out upon the name of Salisbury : 
But such is the infection of the time, 
That, for the health and physick of our right, 
"We cannot deal but with the very hand 
Of stern injustice and confused wrong. — 
And is't not pity, O my grieved friends ! 
That we, the sons and children of this isle, 
Were born to see so sad an hour as this : 
Wherein we step after a stranger, march 
Upon her gentle bosom, and fill up 
Her enemies' ranks, (I must withdraw and 

weep 
Upon the spot of this enforced cause,) 
To grace the gentry of a land remote, 
And follow unacquainted colours here ? 
What, here? — O nation, that thou could' st 



remove 



That Neptune's arms, who clippeth thee about, 
Would bear thee from the knowledge of thyself, 
And grapple thee unto a pagan shore ; 
Where these two Christian armies might com- 
bine 



3 so THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

The blood of malice in a vein of league, 
And not to spend it so unneighbourly ! 

Lew. A noble temper dost thou show in this ; 
And great affections, wrestling in thy bosom, 
Do make an earthquake of nobility. 
O, what a noble combat hast thou fought, 
Between compulsion, and a brave respect ! 
Let me wipe off this honourable dew, 
That silverly doth progress on thy cheeks : 
My heart hath melted at a lady's tears, 
Being an ordinary inundation ; 
But this effusion of such manly drops, 
This shower, blown up by tempest of the soul, 
Startles mine eyes, and makes me more amaz'd, 
Than had I seen the vaulty top of heaven 
Figur'd quite o'er with burning meteors. 
Lift up thy brow, renowned Salisbury, 
And with a great heart heave away this storm : 
Commend these waters to those baby eyes, 
That never saw the giant world enrag'd ; 
Nor met with fortune other that at feasts, 
Full warm of blood, of mirth, of gossiping. 
Come, come ; for thou shalt thrust thy hand as 

deep 
Into the purse of rich prosperity, 
As Lewis himself : — so, nobles, shall you all, 
That knit your sinews to the strength of mine. 

KING JOHN, A. 5, S. 2. 

TIME AND OPPORTUNITY. 

I'll undertake it : 
I think, he'll hear me. Yet to bite his lip, 
And hum at good Cominius, much unhearts me. 
He was not taken well : he had not din'd : 
The veins unfill'd, our blood is cold, and then 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEABE. 3 5 1 

We pout upon the morning, are unapt 
To give or to forgive; but when we have stuff' d 
These pipes, and these conveyances of our blood, 
With wine and feeding, we have suppler souls 
Than in our priest-like fasts: therefore I'll watch 

him 
Till he be dieted to my request, 
And then I'll set upon him. 

CORIOLANUS, A. 5, S. 1. 



TEMPERAMENT. 

Cassitts, you are yoked with a lamb 
That carries anger, as the flint bears fire ; 
Who, much enforced, shows a hasty spark, 
And straight is cold again. 

JULIUS CSSAR, A. 4, 3. 3. 



THE BATTLE OF THE KINGS. 

K. Philip. Tou loving men of Anglers, 

Arthur's subjects, 
Our trumpet call'd you to this gentle parle. 
K. John. For our advantage; — Therefore, 

hear us first. 

These flags of France, that are advanced here 
Before the eye and prospect of your town, 
Have hither march' d to your endamagement : 
The cannons have their bowels full of wrath ; 
And ready mounted are they, to spit forth 
Their iron indignation 'gainst your walls : 
All preparation for a bloody siege, 
And merciless proceeding by these French, 
Confront your city's eyes, your winking gates; 
And, but for our approach, those sleeping stones, 
That as a waist do girdle you about, 



352 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

By the compulsion of their ordnance 
By this time from their fixed beds of lime 
Had been dishabited, and wide havoc made 
For bloody power to rush upon your peace. 
But, on the sight of us, your lawful king,- 



Who painfully, with much expedient march, 
Have brought a countercheck before your gates, 
To save unscratch'd your city's threaten' d 

cheeks, — ■ 
Behold, the French, amaz'd, vouchsafe a parle : 
And now, instead of bullets wrapp'd in fire, 
To make a shaking fever in your walls, 
They shoot but calm words, folded up in smoke, 
To make a faithless error in your ears : 
Which trust accordingly, kind citizens, 
And let us in, your king ; whose labour' d spirits, 
Porwearied in this action of swift speed, 
Crave harbourage within your city walls. 
K. Philip. When I have said, make answer 

to us both. 
Lo, in this right hand, whose protection 
Is most divinely vow'd upon the right 
Of him it holds, stands young Plantagenet ; 
Son to the elder brother of this man, 
And king o'er him, and all that he enjoys : 
For this down-trodden equity, we tread 
In warlike march these greens before your town ; 
Being no further enemy to you, 
Than the constraint of hospitable zeal, 
In the relief of this oppressed child, 
Religiously provokes. Be pleased then 
To pay that duty, which you truly owe, 
To him that owes it ; namely, this young prince : 
And then our arms, like to a muzzled bear, 
Save in aspect, have all offence seal'd up ; 
Our cannon's malice vainly shall be spent 



WILLIAM SEAKESPEABE. 3 5 3 

Against the invulnerable clouds of heaven ; 
And, with a blessed and unvex'd retire, 
With unhack'd swords, and helmets all unbruis'd, 
"We will bear home that lusty blood again, 
Which here we came to spout against your town, 
And leave your children, wives, and you, in 

peace. 
But if you fondly pass our proffer* d offer, 
'Tis not the roundure of your old-fac'd walls 
Can hide you from our messengers of war ; 
Though all these English, and their discipline, 
Were harbour' d in their rude circumference. 
Then, tell us, shall your city call us lord, 
In that behalf which we have challeng'd it ? 
Or shall we give the signal to our rage, 
And stalk in blood to our possession ? 

1st Citizen. Till you compound whose right 

is worthiest, 
We, for the worthiest, hold our right from 

both. 
K. John. Then G-od forgive the sin of all 

those souls, 
That to their everlasting residence, 
Before the dew of evening fall, shall fleet, 
In dreadful trial of our kingdom's king ! 

K. Phi. Amen, Amen ! — Mount chevaliers ! 

to arms ! 

KING JOHN, A. 2, S. 1. 



THE ACCOMPLISHED GENTLEMAN. 

Another of these students at that time 
Was there with him : if I have heard a truth, 
JBiron they call him ; but a merrier man, 
Within the limit of becoming mirth, 
I never spent an hour's talk withal : 
2 a 



354 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

His eye begets occasion for his wit : 
For every object that the one doth catch, 
The other turns to a mirth-moving jest ; 
Which his fair tongue (conceit's expositor,) 
Delivers in such apt and gracious words, 
That aged ears play truant at his tales, 
And younger hearings are quite ravish' d ; 
So sweet and voluble is his discourse. 

love's labour's lost, a. 2, s. 1. 



THE ACTION OF CONSCIENCE. 

1st Murderer. How now? what mean'st 
thou, that thou help'st me not ? 
By heaven, the duke shall know how slack you 
have been. 
2nd Murderer. I would he knew, that I 
had sav'd his brother ! 
Take thou the fee, and tell him what I say ; 
For I repent me that the duke is slain. \_~Exit. 
1 Murd. So do not I ; go, coward, as thou 
art. — 
"Well, I'll go hide the body in some hole, 
Till that the duke give order for his burial : 
And when I have my meed, I will away ; 
For this will out, and then I must not stay. 

K. RICHARD III., A. 1, S. 4. 



THE AGONY OF DOUBT. 

To be once in doubt, 
Is — once to be resolv'd: Exchange me for a 

goat, 
When I shall turn the business of my soul 
To such exsumicate, and blown surmises, 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 3 5 5 

Matching thy inference. 5 Tis not to mate me 

jealous, 
To say — my wife is fair, feeds well, loves com- 
pany, 
Is free of speech, sings, plays, and dances well : 
Where virtue is, these are more virtuous : 
Nor from mine own weak merits will I draw 
The smallest fear, or doubt of her revolt ; 
For she had eyes, and chose me : No, Iago ; 
I'll see, before I doubt ; when I doubt, prove ; 
And, on the proof, there is no more but this, — 
Away at once with love, or jealousy. 

OTHELLO, A. 3, S. 3. 



THE ALL-CONQUERING QUEEN, 

Weakgli^g queen! 
"Whom every thing becomes, to chide, to laugh, 
To weep ; whose every passion fully strives 
To make itself, in thee, fair and admir'd ! 

ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA, A. 1, S. 1. 



THE ANATOMY OF HONOUR 

P. He^ky. Why, thou owest God a death. 

Falstaff. 'Tis not due yet; I would be 
loath to pay him before his day. What need I 
be so forward with him that calls not on me ? 
Well, 'tis no matter; Honour pricks me on. 
Tea, but how if honour prick me off when I 
come on ? how then ? Can honour set to a leg ? 
No. Or an arm ? No. Or take away the grief 
of a wound ? No. Honour hath no skill in 
surgery then ? No. What is honour ? A word. 
What is in that word, honour ? What is that 



356 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

honour ? Air. A trim reckoning ! — "Who hath 
it ? He that died o' Wednesday. Doth he feel 
it ? No. Doth he hear it ? No. Is it in- 
sensible then ? Tea, to the dead. But will it not 
live with the living ? No. Why? Detraction will 
not suffer it : — therefore I'll none of it : Honour 
is a mere scutcheon, and so ends my catechism. 

K. HENRY IV., PART I., A. 5, S. 1. 



THE ATTRIBUTES OF LOVE AND 

DUTY. 

Orlando. Who's there ? 

Adam. What! my young master? — O, my 

gentle master, 
0, my sweet master, you memory 
Of old sir Rowland ! why, what make you here ? 
Why are you virtuous ? Why do people love 

you? 
And wherefore are you gentle, strong, and 

valiant ? 
Why would you be so fond to overcome 
The bony prizer of the humorous duke ? 
Tour praise is come too swiftly home before you. 
Know you not, master, to some kind of men 
Their graces serve them but as enemies ? 
No more do yours ; your virtues, gentle master, 
Are sanctified and holy traitors to you. 
O, what a world is this, when what is comely 
Envenoms him that bears it ! 

Orl. Why, what's the matter ? 
Adam. unhappy youth, 

Come not within these doors ; within this roof 
The enemy of all your graces lives : 
Tour brother — (no, no brother ; yet the son — 



WILLIA2I SHAKESPEABE. 357 

Yet not the son ; — I will not call him son — 
Of him I was about to call his father,) — 
Hath heard your praises; and this night he 

means 
To burn the lodging where you use to lie, 
And you within it : if he fail of that, 
He will have other means to cut you off ; 
I overheard him, and his practices. 
This is no place, this house is but a butchery ; 
Abhor it, fear it, do not enter it. 

Oel. Why, whither, Adam, wouldst thou 

have me go ? 
Adam. No matter whither, so you come not 

here. 
Oel. What, wouldst thou have me go and 

beg my food ? 
Or, with a base and boisterous sword, enforce 
A thievish living on the common road ? 
This I must do, or know not what to do : 
Tet this I will not do, do how I can ; 
I rather will subject me to the malice 
Of a diverted blood, and bloody brother. 
Adam. But do not so : I have five hundred 

crowns, 
The thrifty hire I sav'd under your father, 
Which I did store, to be my foster-nurse, 
When service should in my old limbs lie lame, 
And unregarded age in corners thrown ; 
Take that, and He that doth the ravens feed, 
Tea, providently caters for the sparrow, 
Be comfort to my age ! Here is the gold ; 
All this I give you : Let me be your servant ; 
Though I look old, yet I am strong and lusty : 
For in my youth I never did apply 
Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood ; 
Nor did not with unbashful forehead woo 



358 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

The means of weakness and debility ; 
Therefore my age is as a lusty winter, 
Frosty, but kindly : let me go with you ; 
I'll do the service of a younger man 
In all your business and necessities. 

Oel. O good old man; how well in thee 
appears 
The constant service of the antique world, 
"When service sweat for duty, not for meed ! 
Thou art not for the fashion of these times, 
Where none will sweat, but for promotion ; 
And having that, do choke their service up 
Even with the having : it is not so with thee. 
But, poor old man, thou prun'st a rotten tree, 
That cannot so much as a blossom yield, 
In lieu of all thy pains and husbandry : 
But come thy ways, we'll go along together ; 
And ere we have thy youthful wages spent, 
We'll light upon some settled low content. 

Adam. Master, go on ; and I will follow thee, 
To the last gasp, with truth and loyalty. — 
From seventeen years till now almost fourscore 
Here liv'd I, but now live here no more. 
At seventeen years many their fortunes seek ; 
But at fourscore, it is too late a week : 
Yet fortune cannot recompense me better, 
Than to die well, and not my master's debtor. 

AS YOU LIKE IT, A. 2, S. 3. 



THE BABBLER. 

A gentleman that loves to hear himself talk ; 
and will speak more in a minute, that he will 
stand to in a month. 

ROMEO AND JULIET, A. 2, S. 4. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 359 

THE BALANCE. 

'Tis in ourselves, that we are thus, or thus. 
Our bodies are our gardens ; to the which, our 
wills are gardeners: so that if we will plant 
nettles, or sow lettuce ; set hyssop, and weed up 
thyme ; supply it with one gender of herbs, or 
distract it with many; either to have it steril 
with idleness, or manur'd with industry; why, 
the power and corrigible authority of this 
lies in our wills. If the balance of our lives had 
not one scale of reason to poise another of sen- 
suality, the blood and baseness of our natures 
would conduct us to most preposterous con- 
clusions : But we have reason to cool our raging 
motions, our carnal stings, our unbitted lusts ; 
whereof I take this, that you call — love, to be a 
sect or scion. 

OTHELLO, A. 1, S. 3. 



THE BEAUTIFUL IN ART. 

How this grace 
Speaks his own standing ! what a mental power 
This eye shoots forth ! how big imagination 
Moves in this lip ! to the dumbness of the gesture 
One might interpret. 
It is a pretty mocking of the life. 
Here is a touch ; Is't good ? I'll say of it, 
It tutors nature : artificial strife 
Lives in these touches, livelier than life. 

TIMOX OP ATHENS, A. 1, S. 1. 



360 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

THE BIGOTRY OF VIRTUE. 

A beave fellow ! — he keeps his tides well. Timon, 
Those healths will make thee, and thy state, look 

ill. 
Here's that, which is too weak to be a sinner, 
Honest water, which ne'er left man i'the mire ; 
This, and my food, are equals ; there's no odds. 
Feasts are too proud to give thanks to the gods. 

APEMANTUS's GrRACE. 

Immortal gods, I crave no pelf; 
I pray for no man, but myself: 
Grant I may never prove so fond, 
To trust man on his oath or bond, 
Or a harlot, for her weeping ; 
Or a dog, that seems a sleeping ; 
Or a heeper with my freedom ; 
Or my friends, if I should need ''em. 

TIMON OF ATHENS, A. 1, S. 2. 



THE BIRD'S COURAGE SOMETIMES 
GREATER THAN MAN'S. 

"Wisdom ! to leave his wife, to leave his babes, 

His mansion, and his titles, in a place 

Erom whence himself does fly? He loves us 

not; 
He wants the natural touch : for the poor wren, 
The most diminutive of birds, will fight, 
Her young ones in her nest, against the owl. 
All is the fear, and nothing is the love ; 
As little is the wisdom, where the flight 
So runs against all reason. 

MACBETH, A. 4, S. 2. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 361 

THE BOURNE FROM WHENCE NO 
TRAVELLER RETURNS. 

In" peace and honour rest you here, my sons ; 
Pome's readiest champions, repose you here, 
Secure from worldly chances and mishaps ! 
Here lurks no treason, here no envy swells, 
Here grow no damned grudges; here, are no 

storms, 
No noise, but silence and eternal sleep. 

TITUS ANDRONICUS, A. 1, S. 2. 



THE BROKEN-HEARTED SOLDIER. 

Be witness to me, thou blessed moon, 

"When men revolted shall upon record 

Bear hateful memory, poor Enobarbus did 

Before thy face repent ! — 

O sovereign mistress of true melancholy, 

The poisonous damp of night let fall upon me ; 

That life, a very rebel to my will, 

May hang no longer on me : Throw my heart 

Against the flint and hardness of my fault ; 

"Which, being dried with grief, will break to 

powder, 
And finish all foul thoughts. O Antony, 
Nobler than my revolt is infamous, 
Eorgive me in thine own particular ; 
But let the world rank me in register 
A master-leaver, and a fugitive : 
O Antony ! Antony ! 

ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA, A. 4, S. 9. 



362 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 



THE BROTHER AND SISTER. 

Cl audio. Now, sister, what's the comfort ? 

Isabella. Why, as all comforts are; most 
good in deed : 
Lord Angelo, having affairs to heaven, 
Intends you for his swift embassador, 
"Where you shall be an everlasting lieger : 
Therefore your best appointment make with 

speed ; 
To-morrow you set on. 

Claud. Is there no remedy ? 

Isab. None, but such remedy, as, to save a 
head, 
To cleave a heart in twain. 

Claud. But is there any ? 

Isab. Yes, brother, you may live ; 
There is a devilish mercy in the judge, 
If you'll implore it, that will free your life, 
But fetter you till death. 

Claud. Perpetual durance ? 

Isab. Ay, just, perpetual durance ; a restraint, 
Though all the world's vastidity you had, 
To a determin'd scope. 

Claud. But in what nature ? 

Isab. In such a one as (you consenting to't) 
Would bark your honour from that trunk you 

bear, 
And leave you naked. 

Claud. Let me know the point. 

Isab. 0, I do fear thee, Claudio ; and I 
quake, 
Lest thou a feverous life should' st entertain, 
And six or seven winters more respect 
Than a perpetual honour. Dar'st thou die ? 
The sense of death is most in apprehension ; 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 363 

And the poor beetle, that we tread upon, 
In corporal sufferance finds a pang as great 
As when a giant dies. 

Claud . Why give you me this shame ? 

Think you I can a resolution fetch 
From flowery tenderness ? If I must die, 
I will encounter darkness as a bride, 
And hug it in mine arms. 

Isab. There spake my brother; there my 
father's grave 
Did utter forth a voice ! Tes, thou must die : 
Thou art too noble to conserve a life 
In base appliances. This outward-sainted de- 
puty— 
"Whose settled visage and deliberate word 
Nips youth i'the head, and follies doth enmew, 
As falcon doth the fowl, — is yet a devil ; 
His filth within being cast, he would appear 
A pond as deep as hell. 

Claud. The princely Angelo ? 

Isae. O, 'tis the cunning livery of hell, 
The damned' st body to invest and cover 
In princely guards ! Dost thou think, Claudio, 
If I would yield him my virginity, 
Thou might' st be freed ? 

Claud. 0, heavens ! it cannot be. 

Isab. Tes, he would give it thee, from this 
rank offence, 
So to offend him still : This night's the time 
That I should do what I abhor to name, 
Or else thou diest to-morrow. 

Claud. Thou shalt not do't. 

Isab. 0, were it but my life, 
I'd throw it down for your deliverance 
As frankly as a pin. 

Claud. Thanks, dear Isabel. 



364 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Isab. Be ready, Claudio, for your death to- 
morrow. 

Claud. Tes. — Has he affections in him, 
That thus can make him bite the law by the 

nose, 
"When he would force it ? Sure it is no sin ; 
Or of the deadly seven it is the least. 

Isab. "Which is the least ? 

Claud. If it were damnable, he, being so 
wise, 
"Why, would he for the momentary trick 
Be perdurably fin'd? — Isabel! 

Isab. "What says my brother ? 

Claud. Death is a fearful thing. 

Isab. And shamed life a hateful. 

Claud. Ay, but to die, and go we know not 
where ; 
To lie in cold obstruction, and to rot ; 
This sensible warm motion to become 
A kneaded clod ; and the delighted spirit 
To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside 
In thrilling regions of thick-ribbed ice ; 
To be imprison' d in the viewless winds, 
And blown with restless violence round about 
The pendant world ; or to be worse than worst 
Of those, that lawless and incertain thoughts 
Imagine howling ! — 'tis too horrible ! 
The weariest and most loathed worldly life, 
That age, ach, penury, and imprisonment 
Can lay on nature, is a paradise 
To what we fear of death. 

Isab. Alas! alas! 

Claud. Sweet sister, let me live : 

"What sin you do to save a brother's life, 
Nature dispenses with the deed so far; 
That it becomes a virtue* 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 365 

Isab. 0, you beast ! 

O, faithless coward ! 0, dishonest wretch ! 
"Wilt thou be made a man out of my vice ? 
Is't not a kind of incest, to take life 
From thine own sister's shame ? "What should 

I think? 
Heaven shield, my mother play'd my father fair ! 
For such a warped slip of wilderness 
Ne'er issued from his blood. Take my defiance : 
Die ; perish ! might but my bending down 
Reprieve thee from thy fate, it should proceed : 
I'll pray a thousand prayers for thy death, 
No word to save thee. 

Claud. Nay, hear me, Isabel. 

Isab. 0, fye, fye, fye ! 

Thy sin's not accidental, 
'Tis best that thou diest quickly. 

MEASURE FOR MEASURE, A. 3, S. 1. 



THE BROTHER SINGLE, AND THE 
BROTHER MARRIED. 

Hector. Brother, she is not worth what 
she doth cost 
The holding. 

Teoiltjs. "What is aught, but as 'tis valued ? 

Hect. But value dwells not in particular 
will; 
It holds his estimate and dignity 
As well wherein 'tis precious of itself 
As in the prizer : 'tis mad idolatry, 
To make the service greater than the god ; 
And the will dotes, that is attributive 
To what infectiously itself affects, 
"Without some image of the affected merit. 



366 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Teo. I take to-day a wife, and my election 
Is led on in the conduct of my will ; 
My will enkindled by mine eyes and ears, 
Two traded pilots 'twixt the dangerous shores 
Of will and judgment : How may I avoid, 
Although my will distaste what it elected, 
The wife I chose ? there can be no evasion 
To blench from this, and to stand firm by honour: 
"We turn not back the silks upon the merchant, 
"When we have soil'd them: nor the remainder 

viands 
"We do not throw in unrespective sieve, 
Because we now are full. It was thought meet, 
Paris should do some vengeance on the Greeks : 
Tour breath with full consent bellied his sails ; 
The seas and winds (old wranglers) took a truce, 
And did him service : he touch' d the ports 

desir'd; 
And, for an old aunt, whom the Greeks held 

captive, 
He brought a Grecian queen, whose youth and 

freshness 
"Wrinkles Apollo's, and makes pale the morning. 
Why keep we her ? the Grecians keep our aunt: 
Is she worth keeping ? why, she is a pearl, 
"Whose price hath launch' d above a thousand 

ships, 
And turn'd crown' d kings to merchants. 
If you'll avouch, 'twas wisdom Paris went, 
(As you must needs, for you all cried, — Go, go;) 
If you'll confess, he brought home noble prize, 
(As you must needs, for you all clapp'd your 

hands, 
And cried — Inestimable /) why do you now 
The issue of your proper wisdoms rate, 
And do a deed that fortune never did, 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 367 

Beggar the estimation which you priz'd 
Richer than sea and land ? O, theft most base ; 
That we have stolen what we do fear to keep ! 
But, thieves, unworthy of a thing so stolen, 
That in their country did them that disgrace, 
We fear to warrant in our native place ! 

TROILUS AND CRESSIDA, A. 2, S. 2. 



THE BROW OF ROYALTY. 

See, see, king Richard doth himself appear, 
As doth the blushing discontented sun, 
Prom out the fiery portal of the east, 
When he perceives the envious clouds are bent 
To dim his glory, and to stain the track 
Of his bright passage to the Occident. 
Yet looks he like a king ; behold, his eye, 
As bright as is the eagle's, lightens forth 
Controuling majesty : Alack, alack, for woe, 
That any harm should stain so fair a show ! 

K. KICHARD II., A. 3, S. 3. 



THE CARES OF ROYALTY. 

This battle fares like to the morning's war, 
When dying clouds contend with growing light ; 
What time the shepherd, blowing of his nails, 
Can neither call it perfect day, nor night. 
Now sways it this way, like a mighty sea, 
Fore' d by the tide to combat with the wind ; 
Now sways it that way, like the self-same sea, 
Forc'd to retire by fury of the wind : 
Sometime, the flood prevails ; and then, the wind: 
Now, one the better ; then, another best ; 
Both tugging to be victors, breast to breast, 



368 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Yet neither conqueror, nor conquered : 

So is the equal poise of this fell war. 

Here on this molehill will I sit me down. 

To whom God will, there be the victory ! 

For Margaret my queen, and Clifford too, 

Have chid me from the battle ; swearing both, 

They prosper best of all when I am thence. 

'Would I were dead ! if God's good will were so: 

For what is in this world, but grief and woe ? 

O God ! methinks it were a happy life, 

To be no better than a homely swain ; 

To sit upon a hill, as I do now, 

To carve out dials quaintly, point by point, 

Thereby to see the minutes how they run : 

How many make the hour full complete, 

How many hours bring about the day, 

How many days will finish up the year, 

How many years a mortal man may live. 

"When this is known, then to divide the times : 

So many hours must I tend my flock ; 

So many hours must I take my rest ; 

So many hours must I contemplate ; 

So many hours must I sport myself; 

So many days my ewes have been with young ; 

So many weeks ere the poor fools will yean ; 

So many years ere I shall sheer the fleece ; 

So minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and 

years, 
Pass'd over to the end they were created, 
Would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave. 
Ah, what a life were this! how sweet! how 

lovely ! 
Gives not the hawthorn bush a sweeter shade 
To shepherds, looking on their silly sheep, 
Than doth a rich embroider' d canopy 
To kings, that fear their subjects' treachery ? 



WILLIAM SRAKUSPUAEK 369 

O, yes it doth ; a thousand fold it doth. 

And to conclude, — the shepherd's homely curds, 

His cold thin drink out of his leather bottle, 

His wonted sleep under a fresh tree's shade, 

All which secure and sweetly he enjoys, 

Is far beyond a prince's delicates, 

His viands sparkling in a golden cup, 

His body couched in a curious bed, 

When care, mistrust, and treason wait on him. 

K. HENRY VI., PART III., A. 2, S. 5. 



THE CARES OF THE GREAT. 

Soeeow breaks seasons, and reposing hours, 
Makes the night morning, and the noon-tide 

night. 
Princes have but their titles for their glories, 
An outward honour for an inward toil ; 
And, for unfelt imaginations, 
They often feel a world of restless cares : 
So that, between their titles, and low name, 
There's nothing differs but the outward fame. 

K. RICHARD III., A. 1,S. 4. 



THE CHARM OF GOOD MANNERS 
AND EXPRESSION. 

Sebastian, I have entertained thee, 
Partly, that I have need of such a youth, 
That can with some discretion do my business, 
For 'tis no trusting to yon foolish lowt ; 
But, chiefly, for thy face, and thy behaviour ; 
"Which (if my augury deceive me not) 
"Witness good bringing up, fortune, and truth : 
Therefore know thou, for this I entertain thee. 

TWO GENTLEMFN OF VERONA, A. 4, S. 4. 

2b 



37o TJZjE PHILOSOPHY OF 



THE CHILD OUTWITTING THE MAN. 

Duchess. I long with all my heart to see 
the prince : 
I hope, he is much grown since last I saw him. 
Q. Elizabeth. But I hear, no; they say, 
my son of York 
Hath almost over-ta'en him in his growth. 
York. Ay, mother, but I would not have it so. 
Ditch. Why, my young cousin ? it is good 

to grow. 
York. G-randam, one night, as we did sit at 
supper, 
My uncle Rivers talk'd how I did grow 
More than my "brother; Ay, quoth my uncle 

Gloster, 
Small herbs have grace, great weeds do grow apace : 
And since, methinks, I would not grow so fast, 
Because sweet flowers are slow, and weeds make 
haste. 
Duch. 'G-ood faith, 'good faith, the saying 
did not hold 
In him that did object the same to thee : 
He was the wretched' st thing, when he was 

young, 
So long a growing, and so leisurely, 
That, if his rule were true, he should be gracious. 
Archbishop. And so, no doubt, he is, my 

gracious madam. 
Duch. I hope, he is; but yet let mothers 

doubt. 
York. Now, by my troth, if I had been 
remember' d, 
I could have given my uncle's grace a flout, 
To touch his growth, nearer than he touch' d 
mine. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 3 7 1 

Duch. How, my young York? I pr'ythee, 
let me hear it. 

York. Marry, they say, my uncle grew so fast, 
That he could gnaw a crust at two hours old ; 
'Twas full two years ere I could get a tooth. 
G-randam, this would have been a biting jest. 

K. RICHARD III., A. 2, S. 4. 



THE CHOLERICK. 

Nat, an there were two such, we should have 
none shortly, for one would kill the other. 
Thou! why thou wilt quarrel with a man that 
hath a hair more, or a hair less, in his beard, 
than thou hast. Thou wilt quarrel with a man 
for cracking nuts, having no other reason but 
because thou hast hazel eyes; What eye, but 
such an eye, would spy out such a quarrel ? Thy 
head is as full of quarrels, as an egg is full of 
meat; and yet thy head hath been beaten as 
addle as an egg, for quarrelling. Thou hast 
quarrelled with a man for coughing in the street, 
because he hath wakened thy dog that hath lain 
asleep in the sun. Didst thou not fall out with 
a tailor for wearing his new doublet before 
Easter? with another, for tying his new shoes 
with old ribband ? and yet thou wilt tutor me 
from quarrelling ! 

ROMEO AND JULIET, A. 3, S. 1. 



THE CONFESSION AND THE 
PLIGHTING. 

Cressida. Boldness comes to me now, and 
brings me heart : 



372 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Prince Troilus, I have lov'd you night and day, 
For many weary months. 

Troilus. Why was my Cressid then so hard 

to win ? 
Cees. Hard to seem won; but I was won, 
my lord, 
"With the first glance that ever — Pardon me ; — 
If I confess much, you will play the tyrant. 
I love you now ; but not, till now, so much 
But I might master it : — in faith, I lie ; 
My thoughts were like unbridled children, grown 
Too headstrong for their mother : See, we fools ! 
Why have I blabb'd ? who shall be true to us, 
When we are so unsecret to ourselves ? 
But, though I lov'd you well, I woo'd you not ; 
And yet, good faith, I wish'd myself a man ; 
Or that we women had men's privilege 
Of speaking first. Sweet, bid me hold my 

tongue ; 
Por, in this rapture, I shall surely speak 
The thing I shall repent. See, see, your silence, 
Cunning in dumbness, from my weakness draws 
My very soul of counsel : Stop my mouth. 
Teo. And shall, albeit sweet musick issue 

thence. 
Cees. My lord, I do beseech you, pardon me: 
'Twas not my purpose, thus to beg a kiss : 
I am asham'd; — O heavens! what have I done? — 
Por this time will I take my leave, my lord. 
Teo. Tour leave, sweet Cressid? What 

offends you, lady ? 
Cees. Sir, mine own company. 
Teo. You cannot shun 

Yourself. 

Cees. Let me go and try : 
I have a kind of self resides with you : 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEABE. 373 

But an unkind self, that itself will leave, 
To be another's fool. I would be gone : — 
Where is niy wit ? I know not what I speak. 
Teo. Well know they what they speak, that 

speak so wisely. 
Cees. Perchance, my lord, I show more craft 

than love : 
And fell so roundly to a large confession, 
To angle for your thoughts : But you are wise ; 
Or else you love not ; For to be wise, and love, 
Exceeds man's might; that dwells with gods 

above. 
Teo. O, that I thought it could be in a 

woman, 
(As, if it can, I will presume in you,) 
To feed for aye her lamp and flames of love ; 
To keep her constancy in plight and youth, 
Outliving beauty's outward, with a mind 
That doth renew swifter than blood decays ! 
Or, that persuasion could but thus convince me, — 
That my integrity and truth to you 
Might be affronted with the match and weight 
Of such a winnow' d purity in love ; 
How were I then uplifted ! but, alas ! 
I am as true as truth's simplicity, 
And simpler than the infancy of truth. 
Cees. In that I'll war with you. 
Teo. O virtuous fight, 

When right with right wars who shall be most 

right ! 
True swains in love shall, in the world to come, 
Approve their truths by Troilus : when their 

rhymes, 
Pull of protest, of oath, and big compare, 
Want similes, truth tir'd with iteration, — 
As true as steel, as plantage to the moon, 



374 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

As sun to day, as turtle to her mate, 

As iron to adamant, as earth to the centre, — 

Yet, after all comparisons of truth, 

As truth's authentick author to be cited, 

As true as Troilus shall crown up the verse, 

And sanctify the numbers. 

Cees. Prophet may you be ! 

If I be false, or swerve a hair from truth, 
When time is old and hath forgot itself, 
"When waterdrops have worn the stones of Troy, 
And blind oblivion swallow' d cities up, 
And mighty states characterless are grated 
To dusty nothing ; yet let memory 
Prom false to false, among false maids in love, 
Upbraid my falsehood ! when they have said — as 

false 
As air, as water, wind, or sandy earth, 
As fox to lamb, as wolf to heifer's calf, 
Pard to the hind, or stepdame to her son ; 
Tea, let them say, to stick the heart of falsehood, 
As false as Cressid. 

TROILUS AND CRESSIDA, A. 3, S. 2. 



THE CROWN OF CONTENT. 

K. Henby. My crown is in my heart, not on 
my head ; 
Not deck'd with diamonds, and Indian stones, 
Nor to be seen : my crown is call'd, content ; 
A crown it is, that seldom kings enjoy. 

Keeper. Well, if you be a king crown' d 
with content, 
Tour crown content, and you, must be contented 
To go along with us. 

K. HENRY VI., PART III., A. 3, S. 2. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 3 7 5 

THE CKOW PECKING AT THE 
EAGLE. 

Fame, at which he aims, 
In whom already he is well grac'd, — cannot 
Better be held, nor more attain' d, than by 
A place below the first : for what miscarries 
Shall be the general's fault, though he perform 
To the utmost of a man ; and giddy censure 
Will then cry out of Marcius, O, If he 
Had borne the business ! 
Half all Cominius" honours are to Marcius, 
Though Marcius earn'd them not; and all his 

faults 
To Marcius shall be honours, though, indeed, 
In aught he merit not. 

CORIOLANUS, A. 1, S. 1. 



THE CURSE OF CIVIL WAR 
PROPHESIED. 

Marry, God forbid ! — 
Worst in this royal presence may I speak, 
Yet best beseeming me to speak the truth. 
Would God, that any in this noble presence 
Were enough noble to be upright judge 
Of noble Richard ; then true nobles would 
Learn him forbearance from so foul a wrong. 
What subject can give sentence on his king ? 
And who sits here, that is not Richard's subject ? 
Thieves are not judg'd, but they are by to hear, 
Although apparent guilt be seen in them : 
And shall the figure of God's majesty, 
His captain, steward, deputy elect, 
Anointed, crowned, planted many years, 



376 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Be judg'd by subject and inferior breath, 
And lie himself not present ? O, forbid it, God, 
That, in a Christian climate, souls refin'd 
Should show so heinous, black, obscene a deed ! 
I speak to subjects, and a subject speaks, 
Stirr'd up by heaven thus boldly for his king. 
My lord of Hereford here, whom you call king, 
Is a foul traitor to proud Hereford's king : 
And if you crown him, let me prophesy, — 
The blood of English shall manure the ground, 
And future ages groan for this foul act ; 
Peace shall go sleep with Turks and infidels, 
And, in this seat of peace, tumultuous wars 
Shall kin with kin, and kind with kind confound ; 
Disorder, horror, fear, and mutiny, 
Shall here inhabit, and this land be call'd 
The field of Golgotha, and dead men's sculls. 
O, if you rear this house against this house, 
It will the woefullest division prove, 
That ever fell upon this cursed earth : 
Prevent, resist it, let it not be so, 
Lest child, child's children, cry against you — 



woe! 



K. RICHARD II., A. 4, S. 1. 



THE DEMON OF REVENGE. 

Kkow thou, sad man, I am not Tamora ; 
She is thy enemy, and I thy friend : 
I am Bevenge ; sent from the infernal kingdom, 
To ease the gnawing vulture of thy mind, 
By working wreakful vengeance on thy foes. 
Come down, and welcome me to this world's 

light; 
Confer with me of murder and of death : 



WILLIA1L SHAKESPEARE. 377 

There's not a hollow cave, or lurking-place, 
No vast obscurity, or misty vale, 
Where bloody murder, or detested rape, 
Can couch for fear, but I will find them out ; 
And in their ears tell them my dreadful name, 
Revenge, which makes the foul offender quake. 

TITUS ANDRONICUS. A. 5, S. 2. 



THE DISTRESSED FATHER 

Malcolm. Be comforted : 

Let's make us med'cines of our great revenge, 
To cure this deadly grief. 

Macduff. He has no children. — All my 
pretty ones ? 
Did you say, all ?— 0, hell-kite !— All ? 
What, all my pretty chickens, and their dam, 
At one fell swoop ? 

Mal. Dispute it like a man. 
Macd. I shall do so : 

But I must also feel it as a man : 
I cannot but remember such things were, 
That were most precious to me. — Did heaven 

look on, 
And would not take their part ? Sinful Macduff, 
They were all struck for thee ! nought that I am, 
Not for their own demerits, but for mine, 
Eell slaughter on their souls : Heaven rest them 
now! 
Mal. Be this the whetstone of your sword : 
let grief 
Convert to anger ; blunt not the heart, enrage it. 
Macd. O, I could play the woman with mine 
eyes, 

And braggart with my tongue ! But, gentle 

heaven, 



378 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Cut short all intermission ; front to front, 
Bring thou this fiend of Scotland, and myself ; 
"Within my sword's length set him ; if he 'scape, 
Heaven forgive him too ! 

Mal. This tune goes manly. 

Come, go we to the king ; our power is ready : 
Our lack is nothing but our leave : Macbeth 
Is ripe for shaking, and the powers above 
Put on their instruments. Receive what cheer 

you may ; 
The night is long, that never finds the day. 

MACBETH, A. 4, S. 3. 



THE DIVINITY OF A NOBLE SPIRIT. 

In few, his death (whose spirit lent a fire 
Even to the dullest peasant in his camp,) 
Being bruited once, took fire and heat away 
Erom the best temper' d courage in his troops : 
Eor from his metal was his party steel' d: 
"Which once in him abated, all the rest 
Turn'd on themselves, like dull and heavy lead 
And as the thing that's heavy in itself, 
Upon enforcement, flies with greatest speed ; 
So did our men, heavy in Hotspur's loss, 
Lend to this weight such lightness with their 

fear, 
That arrows fled not swifter toward their aim, 
Than did our soldiers, aiming at their safety, 
Ely from the field. 

K. HENRY IV., PART II., A. 1, S. 1. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 3 79 

THE DOCTRINE OF MERCY ENUN- 
CIATED BY AN ANGEL OF LIGHT. 

The quality of mercy is not strain' d ; 
It droppeth, as the gentle rain from heaven 
Upon the place beneath : it is twice bless' d ; 
It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes : 
'Tis mightiest in the mightiest ; it becomes 
The throned monarch better than his crown ; 
His scepter shows the force of temporal power, 
The attribute to awe and majesty, 
Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings ; 
But mercy is above this scepter' d sway, 
It is enthroned in the hearts of kings, 
It is an attribute to God himself; 
And earthly power doth then show likest God's, 
"When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew, 
Though justice be thy plea, consider this — 
That in the course of justice, none of us 
Should see salvation : we do pray for mercy ; 
And that same prayer doth teach us all to render 
The deeds of mercy. I have spoken thus much, 
To mitigate the justice of thy plea ; 
"Which if thou follow, this strict court of Venice 
Must needs give sentence 'gainst the merchant 
there. 

MERCHANT OF VENICE, A. 4, S. 1. 



THE DOVE SEEKING ITS MATE. 

I see, a man's life is a tedious one : 

I have tir'd myself; and for two nights together 

Have made the ground my bed. I should be 

sick, 
But that my resolution helps me. — Milford, 



380 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

"When from the mountain-top Pisanio show'd 

thee, 
Thou wast within a ken : O Jove ! I think, 
Foundations fly the wretched : such, I mean, 
Where they should be reliev'd. Two beggars 

told me, 
I could not miss my way : Will poor folks lie, 
That have afflictions on them ; knowing 'tis 
A punishment, or trial ? Yes ; no wonder, 
When rich ones scarce tell true : To lapse in 

fulness 
Is sorer, than to lie for need ; and falsehood 
Is worse in kings, than beggars. — My dear lord ! 
Thou art one o'the false ones : Now I think on 

thee, 
My hunger's gone ; but even before, I was 
At point to sink for food. — But what is this ? 
Here is a path to it : 'Tis some savage hold : 
I were best not call ; I dare not call : yet famine, 
Ere clean it o'erthrow nature, makes it valiant. 
Plenty, and peace, breeds cowards; hardness 

ever 
Of hardiness is mother. — Ho ! who's here ? 
If any thing that's civil, speak ; if savage, 
Take, or lend. — Ho! — No answer? then I'll 

enter. 
Best draw my sword ; and if mine enemy 
But fear the sword like me, he'll scarcely look 

on't. 
Such a foe, good heavens ! 

CYMBELINE, A. 3, S. 6. 



THE DYING WARBIOR 

Heee burns my candle out, ay, here it dies, 
Which, while it lasted, gave king Henry light. 
O, Lancaster ! I fear thy overthrow, 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 3 8 1 

More than my body's parting with, my soul. 
My love, and fear, glew'd many friends to thee ; 
And, now I fall, thy tough commixtures melt. 
Impairing Henry, strength' ning mis-proud York, 
The common people swarm like summer flies : 
And whither fly the gnats, but to the sun ? 
And who shines now but Henry's enemies ? 

Phoebus ! hadst thou never given consent 
That Phaeton should check thy fiery steeds, 
Thy burning car never had scorch' d the earth : 
And Henry, had' st thou sway' d as kings should do, 
Or as thy father, and his father, did, 

Giving no ground unto the house of York, 
They never then had sprung like summer flies ; 
I, and ten thousand in this luckless realm, 
Had left no mourning widows for our death, 
And thou this day hadst kept thy chair in peace. 
[For what doth cherish weeds, but gentle air ? 
And what makes robbers bold, but too much 

lenity ? 
Bootless are plaints, and cureless are my wounds: 
No way to fly, nor strength to hold out flight ; 
The foe is merciless, and will not pity ; 
For, at their hands, I have deserv'd no pity. 
The air hath got into my deadly wounds, 
And much effuse of blood doth make me faint : — 
Come, York, and Richard, Warwick, and the rest ; 

1 stabb'd your fathers' bosoms, split my breast. 

K. HENRY VI., PART III., A. 2, S. 6. 



THE EARTH DISEASED. 

Diseased nature oftentimes breaks forth 
In strange eruptions : oft the teeming earth 
Is with a kind of colick pinch' d and vex'd 



382 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

By the imprisoning of unruly wind 

Within her womb ; which, for enlargement 

striving, 
Shakes the old beldame earth, and topples down 
Steeples, and moss-grown towers. 

K. HENRY IV., PART I., A. 3, S. 1. 



THE ELOQUENCE OF WOE. 

O, paedon me, thou piece of bleeding earth, 
That I am meek and gentle with these butchers ! 
Thou art the ruins of the noblest man, 
That ever liv'd in the tide of times. 
Woe to the hand that shed this costly blood ! 
Over thy wounds now do I prophesy, — 
Which, like dumb mouths, do ope their ruby lips, 
To beg the voice and utterance of my tongue ; — 
A curse shall light upon the limbs of men ; 
Domestick fury, and fierce civil strife, 
Shall cumber all the parts of Italy : 
Blood and destruction shall be so in use, 
And dreadful objects so familiar, 
That mothers shall but smile, when they behold 
Their infants quarter' d with the hands of war ; 
All pity chok'd with custom of fell deeds : 
And Ccesar's spirit, ranging for revenge, 
With Ate by his side, come hot from hell, 
Shall in these confines, with a monarch's voice, 
Cry Havock, and let slip the dogs of war ; 
That this foul deed shall smell above the earth 
With carrion men groaning for burial. 

JULIUS CjESAR, A. 3, 6.1. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 3 8 3 



THE EVIL POWER. 

K. Richabd. As I intend to prosper, and 
repent, 
So thrive I in my dangerous attempt 
Of hostile arms ! myself, myself confound ! 
Heaven, and fortune, bar me happy hours ! 
Day, yield me not thy light ; nor, night, thy rest ! 
Be opposite all planets of good luck 
To my proceeding, if, with pure heart's love, 
Immaculate devotion, holy thoughts, 
I tender not thy beauteous princely daughter ! 
In her consists my happiness, and thine ; 
Without her, follows to myself, and thee, 
Herself, the land, and many a Christian soul, 
Death, desolation, ruin, and decay : 
It cannot be avoided, but by this ; 
It will not be avoided, but by this. 
Therefore, dear mother, (I must call you so,) 
Be the attorney of my love to her. 
Plead what I will be, not what I have been ; 
Not my deserts, but what I will deserve : 
Urge the necessity and state of times, 
And be not peevish found in great designs. 

Q. Elizabeth. Shall I be tempted of the 
devil thus ? 

K. Bich. Ay, if the devil tempt thee to do 
good. 

Q. Eliz. Shall I forget myself, to be myself? 

K. Bich. Ay, if your self's remembrance 
wrong yourself. 

Q. Eliz. But thou didst kill my children. 

K. Bich. But in your daughter's womb I 
bury them : 
Where, in that nest of spicery, they shall breed 
Selves of themselves to your recomforture. 



384 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Q. Eliz. Shall I go win my daughter to thy 

will? 
K. Eich. And be a happy mother by the 

deed. 
Q. Eliz. I go. — "Write to me very shortly, 
And you shall understand from me her mind. 
K. .Rich. Bear her my true love's kiss, and 
so farewell. 

[Kissing Tier. Exit Q. Elizabeth. 
Relenting fool, and shallow, changing woman ! 

K. RICHARD III., A. 4, S. 4. 



THE KING'S LEGACY— EXPERIENCE. 

K. Henry. Where is the crown ? who took 

it from my pillow ? 
"Warwick. When we withdrew, my liege, 

we left it here. 
K. Hen. The prince hath ta'en it hence : — 

go, seek him out. 
Is he so hasty, that he doth suppose 

My sleep my death ? 

Eind him, my lord of Warwick; chide him hither. 

[Exit Warwick. 
This part of his conjoins with my disease, 
And helps to end me. — See, sons, what things 

you are ! 
How quickly nature falls into revolt, 
When gold becomes her object ! 
Eor this the foolish over-careful fathers 
Have broke their sleep with thoughts, their 

brains with care, 
Their bones with industry, 
Eor this they have engrossed and pil'd up 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARK 3 8 5 

The canker' d heaps of strange-achieved gold ; 
For this they have been thoughtful to invest 
Their sons with arts, and martial exercises : 
"When, like the bee, tolling from every flower 
The virtuous sweets ; 
Our thighs pack'd with wax, our mouths with 

honey, 
We bring it to the hive ; and, like the bees, 
Are murder' d for our pains. This bitter taste 
Yield his engrossments to the ending father. — 

Re-enter Warwick. 
Now, where is he that will not stay so long, 
Till his friend sickness hath determin'd me ? 
War. My lord, I found the prince in the 
next room, 
Washing with kindly tears his gentle cheeks ; 
With such a deep demeanour in great sorrow, 
That tyranny, which never quaff'd but blood, 
Would, by beholding him, have wash'd his knife 
With gentle eye-drops. He is coming hither. 
K. Hen. But wherefore did he take away 
the crown ? 

Re-enter Prince Henry. 
Lo, where he comes, — Come hither to me, 

Harry : — 
Depart the chamber, leave us here alone. 

[Exeunt Clarence, Prince Humphrey, 
Lords, Sfc. 
P. Henry. I never thought to hear you 

speak again. 
K. Hen. Thy wish was father, Harry, to 
that thought : 
I stay too long by thee, I weary thee. 
Dost thou so hunger for my empty chair, 
That thou wilt needs invest thee with mine 
honours 

9 n 



386 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Before thy hour be ripe ? foolish youth \ 
Thou seek'st the greatness that will overwhelm 

thee. 
Stay but a little ; for my cloud of dignity 
Is held from falling with so weak a wind, 
That it will quickly drop : my day is dim. 
Thou hast stol'n that, which, after some few 

hours, 
"Were thine without offence ; and, at my death, 
Thou hast seal'd up my expectation: 
Thy life did manifest, thou lov'dst me not, 
And thou wilt have me die assur'd of it. 
Thou hid'st a thousand daggers in thy thoughts ; 
"Which thou hast whetted on thy stony heart, 
To stab at half an hour of my life. 
What ! canst thou not forbear me half an hour ? 
Then get thee gone ; and dig my grave thyself ; 
And bid the merry bells ring to thine ear, 
That thou art crowned, not that I am dead. 
Let all the tears that should bedew my hearse, 
Be drops of balm, to sanctify thy head : 
Only compound me with forgotten dust ; 
Give that, which gave thee life, unto the worms. 
Pluck down my officers, break my decrees ; 
For now a time is come to mock at form, 
Harry the fifth is crown' d : — Up, vanity ! 
Down, royal state! all you sage counsellors, 

hence ! 
And to the English court assemble now, 
From every region, apes of idleness ! 
Now, neighbour confines, purge you of your 

scum: 
Have you a ruffian, that will swear, drink, dance, 
Bevel the night ; rob, murder, and commit 
The oldest sins the newest kind of ways ? 
Be happy, he will trouble you no more : 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEABE. 387 

England shall double gild his treble gilt : 
England shall give him office, honour, might : 
For the fifth Harry from curb'd licence plucks 
The muzzle of restraint, and the wild dog 
Shall flesh his tooth in every innocent. 

my poor kingdom, sick with civil blows ! 
When that my care could not withhold thy riots, 
What wilt thou do, when riot is thy care ? 

O, thou wilt be a wilderness again, 
Peopled with wolves, thy aid inhabitants ! 
P. Hen. O, pardon me, my liege ! but for my 
tears, [Kneeling. 

The moist impediments unto my speech, 

1 had forestall' d this dear and deep rebuke, 
Ere you with grief had spoke, and I had heard 
The course of it so far. There is your crown : 
And He that wears the crown immortally, 
Long guard it yours ! If I affect it more, 
Than as your honour, and as your renown, 
Let me no more from this obedience rise, 
(Which my most true and inward duteous spirit 
Teacheth,) this prostrate and exterior bending ! 
Heaven witness with me, when I here came in 
And found no course of breath within your 

majesty, 
How cold it struck my heart ! If I do feign, 
0, let me in my present wildness die ; 
And never live to show the incredulous world 
The noble change that I have purposed ! 
Coming to look on you, thinking you dead, 
(And dead almost, my liege, to think you were,) 
I spake unto the crown as having sense, 
And thus upbraided it. The care on thee 

depending, 
Hath fed upon the body of my father ; 
Therefore, thou, test of gold, art worst of gold. 



388 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Other, less fine in carat, is more precious, 
Preserving life in medicine potable : 
Put thou, most fine, most honoured, most renown' d, 
Hast eat thy bearer up. Thus, my most royal 

liege, 
Accusing it, I put it on my head ; 
To try with it, — as with an enemy, 
That had before my face murder' d my father, — 
The quarrel of a true inheritor. 
But if it did infect my blood with joy, 
Or swell my thoughts to any strain of pride ; 
If any rebel or vain spirit of mine 
Did, with the least affection of a welcome, 
Give entertainment to the might of it, 
Let Grod for ever keep it from my head ! 
And make me as the poorest vassal is, 
That doth with awe and terror kneel to it. 

K. Hen. O my son ! 
Heaven put it in thy mind to take it hence, 
That thou might' st win the more thy father's 

love, 
Pleading so wisely in excuse of it. 
Come hither, Harry, sit thou by my bed ; 
And hear, I think, the very latest counsel 
That ever I shall breathe. Heaven knows, my son, 
By what by-paths, and indirect crook'd ways, 
I met this crown ; and I myself know well, 
How troublesome it sat upon my head : 
To thee it shall descend with better quiet, 
Better opinion, better confirmation ; 
For all the soil of the achievement goes 
"With me into the earth. It seem' d in me, 
But as an honour snatch' d with boisterous hand; 
And I had many living, to upbraid 
My gain of it by their assistances ; 
"Which daily grew to quarrel, and to bloodshed, 



WILLIAM SHAKUSPUAJRU. 3 89 

"Wounding supposed peace : all these bold fears, 
Thou see'st, with peril I have answered : 
For all my reign hath been but as a scene 
Acting that argument ; and now my death 
Changes the mode: for what in me was purchas'd, 
Palls upon thee in a more fairer sort ; 
So thou the garland wear'st successively. 
Yet, though thou stand' st more sure than I 

could do, 
Thou art not firm enough, since griefs are green; 
And all thy friends, which thou must make thy 

friends, 
Have but their stings and teeth newly ta'en out ; 
By whose fell working I was first advanc'd, 
And by whose power I well might lodge a fear 
To be again displac'd : which to avoid, 
I cut them off: and had a purpose now 
To lead out many to the Holy Land ; 
Lest rest, and lying still, might make them look 
Too near unto my state. Therefore, my Harry, 
Be it thy course, to busy giddy minds 
With foreign quarrels ; that action, hence borne 

out, 
May waste the memory of the former days. 
More would I, but my lungs are wasted so, 
That strength of speech is utterly denied me. 
How I came by the crown, God, forgive ! 
And grant it may with thee in true peace live ! 

K. HENRY IV., PART II., A. 4, S. 4. 



THE FAIRY'S RELEASE FROM HER 
EARTHLY PASSION. 

Welcome, good Bobin. See'st thou this sweet 
sight ? 



390 TEE PHILOSOPHY OF ' 

Her dotage now I do begin to pity. 
For meeting her of late, behind the wood, 
Seeking sweet savours for this hateful fool, 
I did upbraid her, and fall out with her : 
For she his hairy temples then had rounded 
"With coronet of fresh and fragrant flowers ; 
And that same dew, which sometime on the buds 
"Was wont to swell, like round and orient pearls, 
Stood now within the pretty flourets' eyes, 
Like tears, that did their own disgrace bewail. 
"When I had, at my pleasure, taunted her, 
And she, in mild terms, begg'd my patience, 
I then did ask of her her changeling child ; 
Which straight she gave me, and her fairy sent 
To bear him to my bower in fairy land. 
And now I have the boy, I will undo 
This hateful imperfection of her eyes. 
And, gentle Puck, take this transformed scalp 
Prom off the head of this Athenian swain ; 
That he awaking when the other do, 
May all to Athens back again repair ; 
And think no more of this night's accidents, 
But as the fierce vexation of a dream. 
But first I will release the fairy queen. 

Be, as thou was wont to be ; 

[Touching her eyes with an herb. 

See, as thou was wont to see : 

Dian's bud o'er Cupid's flower 

Hath such force and blessed power. 
Now, my Titania; wake you, my sweet queen. 

MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM, A. 4, S. 1. 



THE FATALISM OF SIN. 

You are three men of sin, whom destiny 
(That hath to instrument this lower world, 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 391 



And what is in't,) the never-surfeited sea 
Hath caused to belch up, and on this island 
"Where man doth not inhabit ; you 'mongst men 
Being most unfit to live. I have made you mad; 
[Seeing Alois. See. fyc. draw their swords. 
And even with such like valour, men hang and 

drown 
Their proper selves. You fools! I and my fellows 
Are ministers of fate ; the elements, 
Of whom your swords are temper' d, may as well 
"Wound the loud winds, or with bemock'd-at stabs 
Kill the still-closing waters, as diminish 
One dowle that's in my plume; my fellow- 
ministers 
Are like invulnerable : if you could hurt, 
Tour swords are now too massy for your 

strengths, 
And will not be uplifted : But, remember, 
(For that's my business to you,) that you three 
From Milan did supplant good Prospero ; 
Expos' d unto the sea, which hath requit it, 
Him, and his innocent child : for which foul deed 
The powers, delaying, not forgetting, have 
Incens'd the seas and shores, yea, all the 

creatures, 
Against your peace : Thee, of thy son, Alonso, 
They have bereft ; and do pronounce by me, 
Ling' ring perdition (worse than any death 
Can be at once,) shall step by step attend 
You, and your ways; whose wraths to guard 

you from 
("Which here, in this most desolate isle ; else falls 
Upon your heads,) is nothing, but heart's sorrow, 
And a clear life ensuing. 

TEMPEST, A. 3, S.3. 



392 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

THE FATALITY OF LOVE WHEN 
DISPROPORTIONED. 

If I do prove her haggard, 
Though that her jesses were my dear heart- 
strings, 
I'd whistle her off, and let her down the wind, 
To prey at fortune. Haply, for I am black ; 
And have not those soft parts of conversation 
That chamberers have : Or, for I am declin'd 
Into the vale of years ; — yet that's not much ; — 
She's gone ; I am abus'd ; and my relief 
Must be — to loath her. O curse of marriage, 
That we can call these delicate creatures ours, 
And not their appetites! I had rather be a 

toad, 
And live upon the vapour of a dungeon, 
Than keep a corner in the thing I love, 
For others' uses. Tet 'tis the plague of great 

ones; 
Prerogativ'd are they less than the base ; 
'Tis destiny unshunnable, like death ; 
Even then this forked plague is fated to us, 
When we do quicken. 

OTHELLO, A. 3, S. 3. 



THE FICKLENESS OF PUBLIC 
OPINION. 

Let us on ; 
And publish the occasion of our arms. 
The commonwealth is sick of their own choice, 
Their over-greedy love hath surfeited : — 
An habitation giddy and unsure 
Hath he, that buildeth on the vulgar heart. 
O thou fond many ! with what loud applause 



WILLIAM SHAKESFEARE. 3 9 3 

Didst thou beat heaven with blessing Boling- 

broke, 
Before he was what thou would'st have him be ? 
And being now trinim'd in thine own desires, 
Thou, beastly feeder, art so full of him, 
That thou provok'st thyself to cast him up, 
So, so, thou common dog, didst thou disgorge 
Thy glutton bosom of the royal Richard; 
And now thou would'st eat thy dead vomit up, 
And howl'st to find it ? "What trust is in these 

times ? 
They that, when 'Richard liv'd, would have him 

die, 
Are now become enamour' d on his grave : 
Thou, that threw' st dust upon his goodly head, 
When through proud London he came sighing on 
After the admired heels of BolinglroJce, 
Cry'st now, earth, yield us that king again, 
And take thou this ! O thoughts of men accurst ! 
Past, and to come, seem best; things present, 

worst. 

K. HENRT IV., PART II., A. 1, S. 3. 



THEY LOSE THE WORLD THAT BUY 
IT WITH MUCH CARE. 

Gteatiako. You look not well, signior An- 
tonio ; 
You have too much respect upon the world : 
They lose it, that do buy it with much care. 
Believe me, you are marvellously chang'd. 
Antonio. I hold the world but as the world, 
Gratiano ; 
A stage, where every man must play a part, 
And mine a sad one, 



394 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

GTea. Let me play the fool : 

With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come ; 
And let my liver rather heat with wine, 
Than my heart cool with mortifying groans. 
Why should a man, whose blood is warm within, 
Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster ? 
Sleep when he wakes ? and creep into the 

jaundice, 
By being peevish ? I tell thee what, Antonio, — 
I love thee, and it is my love that speaks ; — 
There are a sort of men, whose visages 
Do cream and mantle, like a standing pond ; 
And do a wilful stillness entertain, 
With purpose to be dress' d in an opinion 
Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit ; 
As who should say, I am Sir Oracle, 
And, when I ope my lips, let no dog harh ! 
O, my Antonio, I do know of these, 
That therefore only are reputed wise, 
For saying nothing ; who, I am very sure, 
If they should speak, would almost damn those 

ears, 
Which, hearing them, would call their brothers, 

fools. 
I'll tell thee more of this another time : 
But fish not, with this melancholy bait, 
For this fool's gudgeon, this opinion. — 
Come, good Lorenzo : — Fare ye well, a while ; 
I'll end my exhortation after dinner. 

MERCHANT OF VENICE, A. 1, S. 1. 



THE FOKEDOOMED. 

K. Henry. My lord of Gloster, 'tis my special 
hope, 



WILLIAM SSAKESPJEABU. 395 

That you will clear yourself from all suspects ; 
My conscience tells me, you are innocent. 

GrLOSTER. Ah, gracious lord, these days are 

dangerous ! 
Virtue is chok'd with foul ambition, 
And charity chas'd hence by rancour's hand ; 
Foul subornation is predominant, 
And equity exil'd your highness' land. 
I know, their complot is to have my life ; 
And, if my death might make this island happy, 
And prove the period of their tyranny, 
I would expend it with all willingness : 
But mine is made the prologue to their play ; 
For thousands more, that yet suspect no peril, 
"Will not conclude their plotted tragedy. 
Beaufort's red sparkling eyes blab his heart's 

malice, 
And Suffolk's cloudy brow his stormy hate ; 
Sharp Buckingham unburdens with his tongue 
The envious load that lies upon his heart ; 
And dogged York, that reaches at the moon, 
Whose overweening arm I have pluck' d back, 
By false accuse doth level at my life : — 
Arid you, my sovereign lady, with the rest, 
Causeless have laid disgraces on my head ; 
And, with your best endeavour, have stirr'd up 
My liefest liege to be mine enemy : — 
Ay, all of you have laid your heads together ; 
Myself had notice of your conventicles, 
And all to make away my guiltless life : 
I shall not want false witness to condemn me, 
Nor store of treasons to augment my guilt ; 
The ancient proverb will be well affected, — 
A staff is quickly found to beat a dog. 
Ah, thus king Henry throws away his crutch, 
Before his legs be firm to bear his body : 



396 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Thus is the shepherd beaten from thy side, 
And wolves are gnarling who shall gnaw thee 

first. 
Ah, that my fear were false ! ah, that it were ! 
For, good king Henry, thy decay I fear. 

K. HENRY VI., PART II., A. 3, S. 1. 



THE FRIEND'S PLEDGE. 

A kinder gentleman treads not the earth. 

I saw Bassanio and Antonio part : 

Bassanio told him, he would make some speed 

Of his return ; he answer'd — Do not so, 

Slubber not business for my sake, Bassanio, 

But stay the very rising of the time ; 

And for the Jew's bond, which he hath of me, 

Bet it not enter in your mind of love : 

Be merry ; and employ your chief est thoughts 

To courtship, and such fair ostents of love 

As shall conveniently become you there : 

And even there, his eye being big with tears, 

Turning his face, he put his hand behind him, 

And with affection wondrous sensible 

He wrung Bassanio' } s hand, and so they parted. 

I think, he only loves the world for him. 

I pray thee, let us go, and find him out, 

And quicken his embraced heaviness 

"With some delight or other. 

MERCHANT OF VENICE, A. 2, S. 8. 



THE FRIEND'S LAST REQUEST. 

GrOD ! — Horatio, what a wounded name, 
Things standing thus unknown, shall live behind 
me! 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 397 

If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart, 
Absent thee from felicity awhile, 
And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain, 
To tell my story. 

HAMLET, A. 5, S. 2. 



THE FRIEND'S REBUKE. 

Cassitjs. Have you not love enough to bear 
with me, 
When that rash humour, which my mother gave 

me, 
Makes me forgetful ? 

Brutus. Yes, Cassius ; and, henceforth, 

"When you are over-earnest with your Brutus, 
He'll think your mother chides, and leave you 
so. 

JULIUS CiESAR, A. 4, S. 3. 



THE GAME OF LIFE. 

All the world's a stage, 
And all the men and women merely players : 
They have their exits, and their entrances ; 
And one man in his time plays many parts, 
His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant, 
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms : 
And then, the whining school-boy, with his 

satchel, 
And shining morning face, creeping like snail 
Unwillingly to school : And then the lover ; 
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad 
Made to his mistress' eye-brow : Then a soldier ; 
Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard, 
Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel, 
Seeking the bubble reputation 



398 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Even in the cannon's mouth: And then, the 

justice ; 
In fair round belly, with good capon lin'd, 
With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut, 
Full of wise saws and modern instances, 
And so he plays his part : The sixth age shifts 
Into the lean and slipper' d pantaloon ; 
"With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side ; 
His youthful hose, well sav'd, a world too wide 
For his shrunk shank ; and his big manly voice, 
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes 
And whistles in his sound : Last scene of all, 
That ends this strange eventful history, 
Is second childishness, and mere oblivion ; 
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans every 

thing. 

AS YOU LIKE IT, A. 2, S. 7. 



THE GODS SEE FARTHER THAN 

MEN. 

Pompet. If the great gods be just, they 
shall assist 
The deeds of justest men. 

Menenitjs. Know, worthy Pompey, 

That what they do delay, they not deny. 

Pom. Whiles we are suitors to their throne, 
decays 
The thing we sue for. 

Mene. We, ignorant of ourselves, 

Beg often our own harms, which the wise powers 
Deny us for our good ; so find we profit, 
By losing of our prayers. 

ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA, A. 2, S. 1. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEABE. 399 

THE GOOD ARCHBISHOP'S 
PROPHECY. 

Let me speak, sir, 
Por heaven now bids me ; and the words I utter 
Let none think flattery, for they'll find them 

truth. 
This royal infant, (heaven still move about her!) 
Though in her cradle, yet now promises 
Upon this land a thousand, thousand blessings, 
"Which time shall bring to ripeness : She shall be 
(But few now living can behold that goodness,) 
A pattern to all princes living with her, 
And all that shall succeed : SJieha was never 
More covetous of wisdom, and fair virtue, 
Than this pure soul shall be : all princely graces, 
That mould up such a mighty piece as this is, 
"With all the virtues that attend the good, 
Shall still be doubled on her : truth shall nurse 

her, 
Holy and heavenly thoughts still counsel her : 
She shall be lov'd, and fear'd: Her own shall 

bless her : 
Her foes shake like a field of beaten corn, 
And hang their heads with sorrow : Good grows 

with her : 
In her days, every man shall eat in safety 
Under his own vine, what he plants ; and sing 
The merry songs of peace to all his neighbours : 
Grod shall be truly known ; and those about her 
Prom her shall read the perfect ways of honour, 
And by those claim their greatness, not by blood. 
Nor shall this peace sleep with her : But as 

when 
The bird of wonder dies, the maiden phoenix, 
Her ashes new create another heir, 



4 oo THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

As great in admiration as herself ; 

So shall she leave her blessedness to one, 

(When heaven shall call her from this cloud of 

darkness,) 
"Who from the sacred ashes of her honour, 
Shall star-like rise, as great in fame as she was, 
And so stand fix'd : Peace, plenty, love, truth, 

terror, 
That were the servants to this chosen infant, 
Shall then be his, and like a vine grow to him ; 
Wherever the bright sun of heaven shall shine, 
His honour, and the greatness of his name 
Shall be, and make new nations : He shall nourish, 
And, like a mountain cedar, reach his branches 
To all the plains about him : Our children's 

children 
Shall see this, and bless heaven. 
She shall be, to the happiness of England, 
An aged princess ; many days shall see her, 
And yet no day without a deed to crown it. 
'Would I had known no more! but she must 

die, 
She must, the saints must have her; yet a virgin, 
A most unspotted lily shall she pass 
To the ground, and all the world shall mourn 

her. 

K. HENRY VIII., A. 5, S. 4. 



THE GOOD KING'S RECEPTION 
OF HIS BRIDE. 

Welcome, queen Margaret : 
I can express no kinder sign of love, 
Than this kind kiss. — O Lord, that lends me 
life, 



WILLI All SHAKESPEARE. 40 1 

Lend me a heart replete with thankfulness ! 
For thou hast given me, in this beauteous face, 
A world of earthly blessings to my soul, 
If sympathy of love unite our thoughts. 
Her sight did ravish : but her grace in speech, 
Her words y-clad with wisdom's majesty, 
Makes me, from wondering, fall to weeping joys ; 
Such is the fulness of my heart's content. — 
Lords, with one cheerful voice welcome my love. 

K. HENRY VI., PART II., A. 1, S. 1. 



THE GOOD MAID'S PRAYER 

Let me give light, but let me not be light ; 
Eor a light wife doth make a heavy husband, 
And never be Bassanio so for me ; 
But God sort all ! — You are welcome home, my 
lord. 

MERCHANT OF TENICE, A. 5, S. 1. 



THE GOOD OFT PRESERVED BY 
THEIR INSTINCT. 

"What, doth my lord of Suffolk comfort me ? 
Came he right now to sing a raven's note, 
Whose dismal tune bereft my vital powers ; 
And thinks he, that the chirping of a wren. 
By crying comfort from a hollow breast, 
Can chase away the first- conceived sound ? 
Hide not thy poison with such sugar' d words. 
Lay not thy hands on me ; forbear, I say ; 
Their touch affrights me, as a serpent's sting. 
Thou baleful messenger, out of my sight ! 
Upon thy eye-balls murderous tyranny 
2d 



4 02 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Sits in grim majesty, to fright the world- 
Look not upon me, for thine eyes are wounding :— 
Yet do not go away ; — Come, basilisk, 
And kill the innocent gazer with the sight : 
Tor in the shade of death I shall find joy ; 
In life, but double death, now Gloster's dead. 

K. HENRY VI., PART II., A. 3, S. 2. 



THE GOOD QUEEN'S HOUR OF 
AGONY. 

I will, when you are humble ; nay, before, 
Or God will punish me. I do believe, 
Indue' d by potent circumstances, that 
You are mine enemy ; and make my challenge, 
You shall not be my judge : for it is you 
Have blown this coal betwixt my lord and me, — 
"Which God's dew quench ! — Therefore, I say 

again, 
I utterly abhor, yea, from my soul, 
Refuse you for my judge : whom, yet once more, 
I hold my most malicious foe, and think not 
At all a friend to truth. 

My lord, my lord, 
I am a simple woman, much too weak 
To oppose your cunning. You are meek, and 

humble-mouth' d ; 
You sign your place and calling, in full seeming 
"With meekness and humility : but your heart 
Is cramm'd with arrogancy, spleen, and pride. 
You have, by fortune, and his highness' favours, 
Gone slightly o'er low steps ; and now are 

mounted 
Where powers are your retainers : and your 

words, 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 403 

Domesticks to you, serve your will, as't please 
Yourself pronounce their office. I must tell 

you, 
Tou tender more your person's honour, than 
Tour high profession spiritual : That again 
I do refuse you for my judge ; and here, 
Before you all, appeal unto the pope, 
To bring my whole cause 'fore his holiness, 
And to be judg'd by him. 

K. HENRY VIII., A. 2, S. 4. 



THE GOOD QUEEN MOTHER'S 
DEATHBED. 

Sir, I most humbly pray you to deliver 
This to my lord the king. 
In which I have commended to his goodness 
The model of our chaste loves, his young 

daughter : — 
The dews of heaven fall thick in blessings on 

her! — 
Beseeching him, to give her virtuous breeding ; 
(She is young, and of a noble modest nature ; 
I hope, she will deserve well ;) and a little 
To love her for her mother's sake, that lov'd him, 
Heaven knows how dearly. My next poor 

petition 
Is, that his noble grace would have some pity 
Upon my wretched women, that so long- 
Have follow' d both my fortunes faithfully : 
Of which there is not one, I dare avow, 
(And now I should not lie,) but will deserve, 
For virtue, and true beauty of the soul, 
Eor honesty, and decent carriage, 
A right good husband, let him be a noble ; 



404 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

And, sure, those men are happy that shall have 

them. 
The last is, for my men ; — they are the poorest, 
But poverty could never draw them from me ; — 
That they may have their wages duly paid them, 
And something over to remember me by ; 
If heaven had pleas' d to have given me longer 

life, 
And able means, we had not parted thus. 
These are the whole contents : — And, good my 

lord, 
By that you love the dearest in this world, 
As you wish christian peace to souls departed, 
Stand these poor people's friend, and urge the 

king 
To do me this last right. 

Eemember me 
In all humility unto his highness : 
Say, his long trouble now is passing 
Out of this world : tell him, in death I bless' d 

him, 
For so I will. — Mine eyes grow dim. — Farewell, 
My lord. — Griffith, farewell. — Nay, Patience, 
Tou must not leave me yet. — I must to bed ; 
Call in more women. — When I am dead, good 

wench, 
Let me be us'd with honour ; strew me over 
With maiden flowers, that all the world may 

know 
I was a chaste wife to my grave : embalm me, 
Then lay me forth; although un queen' d, yet 

like 
A queen, and daughter to a king, inter me. 
I can no more. 

K, HENRY VIII., A. 4, S. 2. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 405 

THE GREAT DOOM'S IMAGE. 

O hoeeoe! horror! horror! Tongue, nor heart, 
Cannot conceive, nor name thee ! 
Confusion now hath made his master-piece ! 
Most sacrilegious murder hath broke ope 
The Lord's anointed temple, and stole thence 
The life o'the building. 

Approach the chamber, and destroy your sight 
With a new Gorgon : — Do not bid me speak ; 
See, and then speak yourselves. — Awake ! 

awake ! — 
Ring the alarum-bell : — Murder ! and treason ! 
Banquo, and Donalbain ! Malcolm ! awake ! 
Shake off this downy sleep, death's counterfeit, 
And look on death itself! — up, up, and see 

The great doom's image. Malcolm ! Banquo ! 

As from your graves rise up, and walk like 

sprights, 
To countenance this horror ! 

MACBETH, A. 2, S. 3. 



THE LABOUR OF DRUNKENNESS. 

Antony. Strike the vessels, ho ! 
Here is to Caesar. 

C^sae. I could well forbear it. 

It's monstrous labour, when I wash my brain, 
And it grows fouler. 

Ant. Be a child o'the time. 

C^:s. Possess it, I'll make answer: but I 
had rather fast 
Prom all four days, than drink so much in one. 
"What would you more ? — Pompey, good night. 

Good brother, 
Let me request you off : our graver business 



4o6 THU PHILOSOPHY OF 

Frowns at this levity. — Gentle lords, let's part ; 
You see, we have burnt our cheeks: strong 

JEnobarie 
Is weaker than the wine ; and mine own tongue 
Splits what it speaks : the wild disguise hath 

almost 
Antick'dusall. "What needs more words ? Good 

night. 

ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA, A. 2, S. 7. 



THE GREAT LAMENTING THE 
GREAT. 

mighty Ccesar! Dost thou lie so low ? 
Are all thy conquests, glories, triumphs, spoils, 
Shrunk to this little measure ? Fare thee well. — 

1 know not, gentlemen, what you intend, 
"Who else must be let blood, who else is rank : 
If I myself, there is no hour so fit 

As Ccesar' } s death's hour ; nor no instrument 
Of half that worth, as those your swords, made 

rich 
"With the most noble blood of all this world. 
I do beseech ye, if you bear me hard, 
Now, whilst your purpled hands do reek and 

smoke, 
Eulfil your pleasure. Live a thousand years, 
I shall not find myself so apt to die : 
No place will please me so, no mean of death, 
As here by Ccesar, and by you cut off, 
The choice and master spirits of this age. 

JULIUS CESAR, A. 3, S. 1. 



WILLIAM SHAKJESPLJARE. 407 

THE MENTAL SACRIFICES 
REQUIRED OF THE GREAT. 

TJpois" the king ! let us our lives, our souls, 
Our debts, our careful wives, our children, and 
Our sins, lay on the king ; — we must "bear all. 
O hard condition ! twin-born with greatness, 
Subjected to the breath of every fool, 
Whose sense no more can feel but his own 

wringing ! 
What infinite heart's ease must kings neglect, 
That private men enjoy? 

And what have kings, that privates have not too, 
Save ceremony, save general ceremony ? 
And what art thou, thou idol ceremony ? 
What kind of god art thou, that suff'rest more 
Of mortal griefs, than do thy worshippers ? 
What are thy rents ? what are thy comings-in ? 

ceremony, show me but thy worth ! 
What is the soul of adoration ? 

Art thou aught else but place, degree, and form, 

Creating awe and fear in other men ? 

Wherein thou art less happy, being fear'd, 

Than they in fearing. 

What drink' st thou oft, instead of homage sweet, 

But poison' d flattery ? O, be sick, great greatness, 

And bid thy ceremony give thee cure ! 

Think' st thou, the fiery fever will go out 

With titles blown from adulation ? 

Will it give place to flexure and low bending ? 

Canst thou, when thou command' st the beggar's 

knee, 
Command the health of it ? No, thou proud 

dream, 
That plays so subtly with a king's repose ; 

1 am a king, that find thee ; and I know, 



4 o8 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

'Tis not the balm, the sceptre, and the ball, 
The sword, the mace, the crown imperial, 
The inter-tissued robe of gold and pearl, 
The farced title running 'fore the king, 
The throne he sits on, nor the tide of pomp 
That beats upon the high shore of this world, 
No, not all these, thrice-gorgeous ceremony, 
Not all these, laid in bed majestical, 
Can sleep so soundly as the wretched slave ; 
"Who, with a body fill' d, and vacant mind, 
Grets him to rest, cramm'd with distressful bread ; 
Never sees horrid night, the child of hell ; 
But, like a lackey, from the rise to set, 
Sweats in the eye of Phoebus, and all night 
Sleeps in Elysium; next day, after dawn, 
Doth rise, and help Hyperion to his horse ; 
And follows so the ever-running year 
With profitable labour, to his grave : 
And, but for ceremony, such a wretch, 
"Winding up days with toil, and nights with 

sleep, 
Had the fore-hand and vantage of a king. 
The slave, a member of the country's peace, 
Enjoys it ; but in gross brain little wots, 
"What watch the king keeps to maintain the 

peace, 
Whose hours the peasant best advantages. 

K. HENRY V., A. 4, S. 1. 



THE GREAT SOUL CANNOT STOOP 

TO VILENESS. 

You have done that you should be sorry for. 
There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats ; 
For I am arm'd so strong in honesty, 
That they pass by me as the idle wind, 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 409 

"Which I respect not. I did send to you 

For certain sums of gold, which you denied me; — 

For I can raise no money by vie means : 

By heaven, I had rather coin my heart, 

Aid drop my blood for drachmas, than to wring 

From the hard hands of peasants their vile trash, 

By any indirection. I did send 

To you for gold to pay my legions, 

"Which you denied me : "Was that done like 

Cassius ? 
Should I have answer' d Cains Cassius so ? 
"When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous, 
To lock such rascal counters from his friends, 
Be ready, gods, with all your thunderbolts, 
Dash him to pieces ! 

JULIUS CiESAR, A. 4, S. 3. 



THE GBEAT SOUL'S PRESAGE. 

Give me my robe, put on my crown ; I have 
Immortal longings in me : Now no more 
The juice of Egypt's grape shall moist this lip : — 
Make haste, good Iras; quick. — Methinks, I 

hear 
Antony call ; I see him rouse himself 
To praise my noble act ; I hear him mock 
The luck of Ccesar, which the gods give men 
To excuse their after wrath : Husband, I come : 
Now to that name my courage prove my title ! 
I am fire, and air ; my other elements 
I give to baser life. — So, — have you done ? 
Come then, and take the last warmth of my 

lips. 
Farewell, kind Charmian ; — Iras, long farewell. 
[Kisses them, Iras falls and dies. 
Have I the aspick in my lips ? Dost fall ? 



4 i o THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

If thou and nature can so gently part, 
The stroke of death is as a lover's pinch, 
Which hurts, and is desir'd. Dost thou lie 

stiU? 
If thus thou vanishest, thou tell'st the world 
It is not worth leave-taking. 

ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA, A. 5, S. 2. 



THE GREAT SYMPATHISE EVEN IN 
ANTAGONISM. 

Coriolanus. Prepare thy brow to frown: 

Know'st thou me yet ? 
Atjfiditts. I know thee not : — Thy name ? 
Cor. My name is Cains Marcius, who hath 

done 
To thee particularly, and to all the Volsces, 
Great hurt and mischief ; thereto witness may 
My surname, Coriolcmus : The painful service, 
The extreme dangers, and the drops of blood 
Shed for my thankless country, are requited 
But with that surname ; a good memory, 
And witness of the malice and displeasure 
Which thou should' st bear me : only that name 

remains ; 
The cruelty and envy of the people, 
Permitted by our dastard nobles, who 
Have all forsook me, hath devoured the rest ; 
And suffer' d me by the voice of slaves to be 
Whoop' d out of Rome. Now, this extremity 
Hath brought me to thy hearth; Not out of 

hope, 
Mistake me not, to save my life ; for if 
I had fear'd death, of all the men i'the world 
I would have 'voided thee : but in mere spite, 



WILLIAM SHAKESPLJARLJ. 41 1 

To be full quit of those my banishers, 
Stand I before thee here. Then if thou hast 
A heart of wreak in thee, that will revenge 
Thine own particular wrongs, and stop those 

maims 
Of shame seen through thy country, speed thee 

straight, 
And make my misery serve thy turn ; so use it, 
That my revengeful services may prove 
As benefits to thee ; for I will fight 
Against my canker' d country with the spleen 
Of all the under fiends. But if so be 
Thou dar'st not this, and that to prove more 

fortunes 
Thou art tir'd, then, in a word, I also am 
Longer to live most weary, and present 
My throat to thee, and to thy ancient malice : 
Which not to cut, would thee show but a fool ; 
Since I have ever follow' d thee with hate, 
Drawn tuns of blood out of thy country's breast, 
And cannot live but to thy shame, unless 
It be to do thee service. 

Attf. O Marcius, Marcius, 

Each word thou hast spoke hath weeded from my 

heart 
A root of ancient envy. If Jupiter 
Should from yon cloud speak divine things, and 

say, 
'Tis true ; I'd not believe them more than thee, 
All noble Marcius. — O, let me twine 
Mine arms about that body, where against 
My grained ash an hundred times hath broke, 
And scar'd the moon with splinters ! Here I clip 
The anvil of my sword ; and do contest 
As hotly and as nobly with thy love, 
As ever in ambitious strength I did 



4 i2 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Contend against thy valour. Know thou first, 
I loved the maid I married ; never man 
Sighed truer breath ; but that I see thee here, 
Thou noble thing ! more dances my rapt heart, 
Than when I first my wedded mistress saw 
Bestride my threshold. Why, thou Mars! I 

tell thee, 
We have a power on foot ; and I had purpose 
Once more to hew thy target from thy brawn, 
Or lose mine arm for't : Thou hast beat me out 
Twelve several times, and I have nightly since 
Dreamt of encounters 'twixt thyself and me : 
We have been down together in my sleep, 
Unbuckling helms, fisting each other's throat, 
And wak'd half dead with nothing. Worthy 

Marcius, 
Had we no quarrel else to Pome, but that 
Thou art thence banish' d, we would muster all 
From twelve to seventy ; and, pouring war 
Into the bowels of ungrateful Pome, 
Like a bold flood o'er beat. 0, come, go in, 
And take our friendly senators by the hands ; 
Who now are here, taking their leaves of me, 
Who am prepar'd against your territories, 
Though not for Pome itself. 
Therefore, most absolute sir, if thou wilt have 
The leading of thine own revenges, take 
The one half of my commission ; and set down, — • 
As best thou art experienc'd, since thou know'st 
Thy country's strength and weakness, — thine 

own ways : 
Whether to knock against the gates of Pome, 
Or rudely visit them in parts remote, 
To fright them, ere destroy. But come in : 
Let me commend thee first to those, that shall 
Say, yea, to thy desires. A thousand welcomes ! 



WILLI 'All SHAKESPEARE. 4 1 3 

And more a friend than e'er an enemy ; 
Yet, Marcius that was much. Tour hand! 
Most welcome ! 

COKIOLANUS, A. 4, S. 5. 



THE GUILTY SOUL IN FEAR 

Gtite me another horse, — bind up my wounds, — 
Have mercy, Jesu ! — Soft ; I did but dream. — 

coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me ! 
The lights burn blue. — It is now dead midnight. 
Cold fearful drops stand on my trembling flesh. 
"What do I fear ? myself ? there's none else by : 
Richard loves Richard; that is, I am I. 

Is there a murderer here ? No ; — Yes ; lam: 
Then fly, — "What, from myself ? Great reason : 

Why? 
Lest I revenge. What ? Myself on myself ? 

1 love myself. WTierefore ? for any good, 
That I myself have done unto myself ? 

0, no : alas, I rather hate myself, 

For hateful deeds committed by myself. 

I am a villain : Yet I lie, I am not. 

Fool, of thyself speak well : — Pool, do not flatter. 

My conscience hath a thousand several tongues, 

And every tongue brings in a several tale, 

And every tale condemns me for a villain. 

Perjury, perjury, in the high'st degree, 

Murder, stern murder, in the dir'st degree; 

All several sins, all us'd in each degree, 

Throng to the bar, crying all, — Guilty ! guilty ! 

I shall despair. — There is no creature loves me ; 

And, if I die, no soul will pity me : 

Nay, wherefore should they ? since that I myself 

Find in myself no pity to myself. 

Me thought, the souls of all that I had murder' d 



4 i4 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Came to my tent : and every one did threat 
To-morrow's vengeance on the head of Pichard. 
By the apostle Paul, shadows to-night 
Have struck more terror to the soul of Pichard, 
Than can the substance of ten thousand soldiers, 
Armed in proof, and led by shallow Pichmond. 
It is not yet near day. Come, go with me ; 
Under our tents I'll play the eaves-dropper, 
To hear if any mean to shrink from me. 

K. RICHARD III., A. 5, S. 3. 



THE HANGMAN'S COMFORT. 

But the comfort is, you shall be called to no 
more payments, fear no more tavern bills ; which 
are often the sadness of parting, as the procuring 
of mirth : you come in faint for want of meat, 
depart reeling with too much drink ; sorry that 
you have paid too much, and sorry that you are 
paid too much; purse and brain both empty: 
the brain the heavier for being too light, the 
purse too light, being drawn of heaviness : O ! 
of this contradiction you shall now be quit. — O, 
the charity of a penny cord ! it sums up thou- 
sands in a trice : you have no true debitor and 
creditor but it ; of what's past, is, and to come, 
the discharge: — Your neck, sir, is pen, book, 
and counters ; so the acquittance follows. 

CYMBELINE, A. 5, S. 4. 



THE HAPPY BALANCE. 

Cleopatra. Was he sad, or merry ? 

Alexander. Like to the time o'the year 
between the extremes 



WILLIAM SSAKJESPJEAEU. 41 5 

Of heat and cold ; lie was nor sad nor merry. 
Cleo. O well-divided disposition! — Note 

him. 
Note him, good CJiarmian, 'tis the man; but 

note him : 
He was not sad ; for he would shine on those 
That make their looks by his : he was not merry ; 
"Which seem'd to tell them, his remembrance lay 
In Egypt with his joy : but between both : 
O heavenly mingle ! — Be'st thou sad, or merry, 
The violence of either thee becomes ; 
So does it no man else. 

ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA, A. 1, S. 5. 



THE HAPPY MEDIUM. 

He were an excellent man, that were made 
just in the mid- way between him and Benedich ; 
the one is too like an image, and says nothing ; 
and the other, too like my lady's eldest son, ever- 
more tattling. 

MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING, A. 2, S. 1. 



THE HEAD NO MATCH FOR THE 
HEART. 

Isabella. Must he needs die ? 
A:n"gelo. Maiden, no remedy. 

Isab. Yes ; I do think that you might pardon 
him, 
And neither heaven nor man grieve at the mercy. 
Ang. I will not do't. 

I sab. But can you, if you would ? 

Ang-. Look, what I will not, that I cannot do. 



4 i 6 THU PHILOSOPHY OF 

Isab. But might you do't, and do the world 
no wrong, 
If so your heart were touch' d with that remorse, 
As mine is to him ? 

Ang. He's sentenc'd ; 'tis too late. 

Isab. Too late ? why, no ; I, that do speak a 
word, 
May call it back again : "Well, believe this, 
No ceremony that to great ones 'longs, 
Not the king's crown, nor the deputed sword, 
The marshal's truncheon, nor the judge's robe, 
Become them with one half so good a grace, 
As mercy does. If he had been as you, 
And you as he, you would have slipt like him ; 
But he, like you, would not have been so stern. 
I would to heaven I had your potency, 
And you were Isabel ? should it then be thus ? 
No ; I would tell what 'twere to be a judge, 
And what a prisoner. 

Ang. Tour brother is a forfeit of the law, 
And you but waste your words. 

Isab. Alas! alas! 

Why, all the souls that were, were forfeit once ; 
And He that might the vantage best have took, 
Tound out the remedy : How would you be, 
If He, which is the top of judgment, should 
But judge you as you are ? O, think on that ; 
And mercy then will breathe within your lips, 
Like man new made. 

Ang. Be you content, fair maid ; 

It is the law, not I, condemns your brother : 
Were he my kinsman, brother, or my son, 
It should be thus with him; — he must die to- 
morrow. 

Isab. To-morrow? 0, that's sudden ! Spare 
him, spare him : 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 417 

He's not prepar'd for death! Even for our 

kitchens 
"We kill the fowl of season; shall we serve 

heaven 
With less respect than we do minister 
To our gross selves ? Good, good my lord, be- 
think you : 
Who is it that hath died for this offence ? 
There's many have committed it. 

Aug. The law hath not been dead, though it 

hath slept : 
Those many had not dar'd to do that evil, 
If the first man that did the edict infringe, 
Had answer' d for his deed : now, 'tis awake ; 
Takes note of what is done ; and, like a prophet, 
Looks in a glass, that shows what future evils, 
(Either now, or by remissness new-conceiv'd, 
And so in progress to be hatch' d and born,) 
Are now to have no successive degrees, 
But, where they live, to end. 

Isab. Tet show some pity. 

An&. I show it most of all, when I show 

justice ; 
Eor then I pity those I do not know, 
Which a dismiss' d offence would after gall; 
And do him right, that, answering one foul 

wrong, 
Lives not to act another. Be satisfied ; 
Tour brother dies to-morrow ; be content. 
Isab. So you must be the first, that gives 

this sentence ; 
And he, that suffers : 0, it is excellent 
To have a giant's strength ; but it is tyrannous 
To use it like a giant. 

Could great men thunder 
As Jove himself does, Jove would ne'er be quiet, 
2 E 



4 i 8 TUB PHILOSOPHY OF 

For every pelting, petty officer, 

Would use his heaven for thunder : nothing but 

thunder. 

Merciful heaven ! 

Thou rather, with thy sharp and sulphurous 

bolt, 
Split' st the unwedgeable and gnarled oak, 
Than the soft myrtle ; — 0, but man, proud man ! 
Drest in a little brief authority ; 
Most ignorant of what he's most assur'd, 
His glassy essence, — like an angry ape, 
Plays such fantastick tricks before high heaven, 
As make the angels weep ; who, with our spleens, 
Would all themselves laugh mortal. 
We cannot weigh our brother with ourself : 
Great men may jest with saints: 'tis wit in 

them; 
But, in the less, foul profanation. 
That in the captain's but a cholerick word, 
Which in the soldier is flat blasphemy. 

Ajsg. Why do you put these sayings upon 

me? 
Isab. Because authority, though it err like 

others, 
Hath yet a kind of medicine in itself, 
That skins the vice o'the top : Gro to your bosom ; 
Knock there ; and ask your heart, what it doth 

know 
That's like my brother's fault : if it confess 
A natural guiltiness, such as is his, 
Let it not sound a thought upon your tongue 
Against my brother's life. 

Ang. She speaks, and 'tis 
Such sense, that my sense breeds with it. 

Tare you well. 
Isae. Gentle my lord, turn back. 



WILLIAM SHAKLJSPEABLJ. 419 

AtfGk I will bethink me: — Come again to- 
morrow. 
Isae. Hark, how I'll bribe you : Good my 

lord, turn back. 
Akgl How ! bribe me ? 
Isab. Ay, with such gifts, that heaven shall 

share with you. 
Not with fond shekels of the tested gold, 
Or stones, whose rates are either rich, or poor, 
As fancy values them : but with true prayers, 
That shall be up at heaven, and enter there, 
Ere sunrise : prayers from preserved souls, 
From fasting maids, whose minds are dedicate 
To nothing temporal. 

Akg. Well : come to me 

To-morrow. 
"What's this ? what's this ? Is this her fault, or 

mine? 
The tempter or the tempted, who sins most? 

Ha! 
Not she ; nor doth she tempt : but it is I, 
That lying by the violet, in the sun, 
Do, as the carrion does, not as the flower, 
Corrupt with virtuous season. Can it be, 
That modesty may more betray our sense 
Than woman's lightness ? Having w r aste ground 

enough, 
Shall we desire to raze the sanctuary, 
And pitch our evils there ? 0, fy, fy, fy ! 
What dost thou ? or what art thou, Angelo ? 
Dost thou desire her foully, for those things 
That make her good ? O, let her brother live : 
Thieves for their robbery have authority, 
When judges steal themselves. What ? do I 

love her, 
That I desire to hear her speak again, 



4 2o THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

And feast upon her eyes ? "What is't I dream 

on? 
O cunning enemy, that, to catch a saint, 
"With saints dost bait thy hook ! Most dangerous 
Is that temptation, that doth goad us on 
To sin in loving virtue : never could the strumpet, 
"With all her double vigour, art, and nature, 
Once stir my temper ; but this virtuous maid 
Subdues me quite ; — Ever till now, 
When men were fond, I smil'd and wonder' d 

how. 

MEASURE FOR MEASURE, A. 2, S. 2. 



THE HEART. 

Duchess. What gone, my lord ; and bid me 

not farewell ? 
Gtloster. Witness my tears, I cannot stay 



to speak. 



K. HENRY VI., PART II., A. 2, S. 4. 



THE HEART'S ANGUISH. 

It is the cause, it is the cause, my soul,— 
Let me not name it to you, you chaste stars ! — 
It is the cause. — Yet I'll not shed her blood; 
Nor scar that whiter skin of hers than snow, 
And smooth as monumental alabaster. 
Yet she must die, else she'll betray more men. 
Put out the light, and then put out the light : 
If I quench thee, thou flaming minister, 
I can again thy former light restore, 
Should I repent me : — but once put out thine, 
Tliou cunning'st pattern of excelling nature, 
I know not where is that Promethean heat, 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 42 1 



That can thy light relume. When I have pluck' d 

thy rose, 
I cannot give it vital growth again, 
It needs must wither: — I'll smell it on the 

tree. — 
O balmy breath, that dost almost persuade 
Justice to break her sword! — One more, one 

more. — 
Be thus when thou art dead, and I will kill thee, 
And love thee after: — One more, and this the 

last : 
So sweet was ne'er so fatal. I must weep, 
But they are cruel tears: This sorrow's heavenly; 
It strikes, where it doth love. 

OTHELLO, A. 5, S. 2. 



THE HEARTS DESOLATION. 

Thou common friend, that's without faith or 

love ; 
(For such is a friend now,) treacherous man ! 
Thou hast beguil'd my hopes ; nought but mine 

eye 
Could have persuaded me : Now I dare not say, 
I have one friend alive; thou would' st disprove 

me. 
Who should be trusted now, when one's right 

hand 
Is perjur'd to the bosom ? Proteus, 
I am sorry I must never trust thee more, 
But count the world a stranger for thy sake. 
The private wound is deepest: time, most 

curst! 
'Mongst all foes, that a friend should be the 

worst. 

TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA, A. 5, S. 4. 



422 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

THE HEART THE TRUEST TIME- 
KEEPER. 

The sun begins to gild the western sky : 

And now, it is about the very hour 

That Silvia, at Patrick's cell, should meet me. 

She will not fail ; for lovers break not hours, 

Unless it be to come before their time ; 

So much they spur their expedition. 

TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA, A. 5, S. 1. 



THE HENBANE OF MISMATCHES. 

And thereof came it, that the man was mad : 
The venom clamours of a jealous woman 
Poison more deadly than a mad dog's tooth. 
It seems, his sleeps were hinder' d by the railing : 
And therefore comes it, that his head is light. 
Thou say'st, his meat was sauc'd with thy up- 

braidings : 
Unquiet meals make ill digestions, 
Thereof the raging fire of fever bred ; 
And what's a fever but a fit of madness ? 
Thou say'st, his sports were hinder'd by thy 

brawls : 
Sweet recreation barr'd, what doth ensue, 
But moody and dull melancholy, 
(Kinsman to grim and comfortless despair ;) 
And, at her heels, a huge infectious troop 
Of pale distemperatures, and foes to life ? 
In food, in sport, and life preserving rest 
To be disturb' d, would mad or man, or beast : 
The consequence is then, thy jealous fits 
Have scar'd thy husband from the use of wits. 

COMEDY OF EKHORS, A. 5, S. 1. 



WILLIAM S&AKESPUABB. 423 



THE HEROIC LOVERS' MEETING. 

O thotj day o'the world, 
Chain mine arm'd neck ; leap thou, attire and all, 
Through proof of harness to my heart, and there 
Ride on the pants triumphing. 

ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA, A. 4, S. 8. 



THE HEROIC MOTHER. 

Constance. Gone to be married! gone to 

swear a peace ! 
Ealse blood to false blood join'd! Gone to be 

friends ! 
Shall Lewis have Blanch? and Blanch those 

provinces ? 
It is not so ; thou hast misspoke, misheard ; 
Be well advis'd, tell o'er thy tale again : 
It cannot be ; thou dost but say, 'tis so : 
I trust, I may not trust thee ; for thy word 
Is but the vain breath of a common man : 
Believe me, I do not believe thee, man ; 
I have a king's oath to the contrary. 
Thou shalt be punish' d for thus frighting me, 
Eor I am sick, and capable of fears ; 
Oppress' d with wrongs, and therefore full of 

fears ; 
A widow, husbandless, subject to fears ; 
A woman, naturally born to fears ; 
And though thou now confess, thou didst but 

. J est ' 
"With my vex'd spirits I cannot take a truce, 

But they will quake and tremble all this day. 

"What dost thou mean by shaking of thy head ? 

Why dost thou look so sadly on my son ? 



4 2 4 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

What means that hand upon that breast of 

thine? 
Why holds thine eye that lamentable rheum, 
Like a proud river peering o'er his bounds ? 
Be these sad signs confirmers of thy words ? 
Then speak again ; not all thy former tale, 
But this one word, whether thy tale be true. 
Salisbury. As true, as, I believe, you think 

them false, 
That give you cause to prove my saying true. 
Const. O, if thou teach me to believe this 

sorrow, 
Teach thou this sorrow how to make me die ; 
And let belief and life encounter so, 
As doth the fury of two desperate men, 
Which, in the very meeting, fall and die.— 
Lewis marry Blanch! O, boy, then where art 

thou ? 
France friend with England! what becomes of 

me? — 
Fellow, be gone : I cannot brook thy sight ; 
This news hath made thee a most ugly man. 
Sal. What other harm have I, good lady, 

done, 
But spoke the harm that is by others done ? 
Const. Which harm within itself so heinous 
.is, 
As it makes harmful all that speak of it. 

Arthur. I do beseech you, madam, be con- 
tent. 
Const. If thou, that bid'st me be content, 

wert grim, 
Ugly, and sland'rous to thy mother's womb, 
Full of unpleasing blots, and sightless stains, 
Lame, foolish, crook'd, swart, prodigious, 
Patch' d with foul moles, and eye-offending marks, 



WILLIAM SKAKE8PEABE. 425 

I would not care, I then would be content ; 
For then I should not love thee ; no, nor thou 
Become thy great birth, nor deserve a crown. 
But thou art fair ; and at thy birth, dear boy, 
Nature and fortune join'd to make thee great: 
Of nature's gifts thou may'st with lilies boast, 
And with the half-blown rose : but fortune, O ! 
She is corrupted, chang'd, and won from thee ; 
She adulterates hourly with thine uncle John ; 
And with her golden hand hath pluck' d on France 
To tread down fair respect of sovereignty, 
And made his majesty the bawd to theirs. 
France is a bawd to fortune, and king John ; 
That strumpet fortune, that usurping John : — 
Tell me, thou felloAV, is not France forsworn ? 
^Envenom him with words ; or get thee gone, 
And leave these woes alone, which I alone, 
Am bound to under-bear. 

Sal. Pardon me, madam, 

I may not go without you to the kings. 

Const. Thou may'st, thou shalt, I will not 
go with thee : 
I will instruct my sorrows to be proud : 
For grief is proud, and makes his owner stout. 
To me, and to the state of my great grief, 
Let kings assemble ; for my grief's so great, 
That no supporter but the huge firm earth 
Can hold it up : here I and sorrow sit ; 
Here is my throne, bid kings come bow to it. 

\_8he throws herself on the ground. 

Fitter K. John, K. Philip, Lewis, Blanch, 
Elinob, Bastard, Atjsteia, and Attendants. 

K. Philip. 'Tis true, fair daughter ; and this 
blessed day, 
Ever in France shall be kept festival : 



426 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

To solemnize this day, the glorious sun 
Stays in his course, and plays the alchemist ; 
Turning, with splendour of his precious eye, 
The meagre cloddy earth to glittering gold : 
The yearly course, that brings this day about, 
Shall never see it but a holy day. 

Const. A wicked day, and not a holyday !- 



[Rising. 

What hath this day deserv'd ? what hath it done ; 
That it in golden letters should be set, 
Among the high tides, in the kalendar ? 
Nay, rather, turn this day out of the week ; 
This day of shame, oppression, perjury : 
Or, if it must stand still, let wives with child 
Pray, that their burdens may not fall this day, 
Lest that their hopes prodigiously be cross' d: 
But on this day, let seamen fear no wreck ; 
No bargains break, that are not this day made : 
This day, all things begun come to ill end ; 
Tea, faith itself to hollow falsehood change ! 
K. Phi. By heaven, lady, you shall have no 
cause 
To curse the fair proceedings of this day. 
Have I not pawn'd to you my majesty ? 

Const. Tou have begun" d me with a coun- 
terfeit, 
Resembling majesty ; which, being touch'd and 

tried, 
Proves valueless : Tou are forsworn, forsworn ; 
Tou came in arms to spill mine enemies' blood, 
But now in arms you strengthen it with yours : 
The grappling vigour and rough frown of war, 
Is cold in amity and painted peace, 
And our oppression hath made up this league : — 
Arm, arm, you heavens, against these perjur'd 
kings ! 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 427 

A widow cries ; be husband to me, heavens ! 
Let not the hours of this ungodly day 
Wear out the day in peace ; but, ere sunset, 
Set armed discord 'twixt these perjur'd kings ! 
Hear me, O, hear me ! 

Austria. Lady Constance, peace. 

Const. "War! war! no peace! peace is to 

me a war. 
O Lymoges ! Austria ! thou dost shame 
That bloody spoil : Thou slave, thou wretch, thou 

coward ; 
Thou little valiant, great in villainy ! 
Thou ever strong upon the stronger side ! 
Thou fortune's champion, that dost never fight 
But when her humorous ladyship is by 
To teach thee safety ! thou art perjur'd too, 
And sooth' st up greatness. What a fool art 

thou, 
A ramping fool ; to brag, and stamp, and swear, 
Upon my party ! Thou cold-blooded slave, 
Hast thou not spoke like thunder on my side ? 
Been sworn my soldier ? bidding me depend 
Upon thy stars, thy fortune, and thy strength ? 
And dost thou now fall over to my foes ? 
Thou wear a lion's hide ! doff it for shame, 
And hang a calf's-skin on those recreant limbs. 

KING JOHN, A. 3, S. 1. 



THE HERO OVERCOME BY 

COWARDICE. 

Troiltts. Hector is slain, 
And at the murderer's horse's tail, 
In beastly sort, dragg'd through the shameful 
field. — 



428 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Frown on, you heavens, effect your rage with 

speed ! 
Sit, gods, upon your thrones, and smile at Troy! 
I say, at once let your brief plagues be mercy, 
And linger not our sure destructions on ! 

iEKEAS. My lord, you do discomfort all the 

host. 
Tro. Tou understand me not, that tell me so : 
I do not speak of flight, of fear, of death ; 
But dare all imminence, that gods and men, 
Address their dangers in. Hector is gone ! 
Who shall tell Priam so, or Hecuba ? 
Let him, that will a screech-owl aye be call'd, 
G-o in to Troy, and say there — Hector's dead : 
There is a word will Priam turn to stone ; 
Make wells and Niobes of the maids and wives, 
Cold statues of the youth ; and, in a word, 
Scare Troy out of itself. But, march, away : 
Hector is dead ; there is no more to say. 
Stay yet ; — You vile abominable tents, 
Thus proudly pight upon our Phrygian plains, 
Let Titan rise as early as he dare, 
I'll through and through you ! — And thou, great 

siz'd coward ! 
No space of earth shall sunder our two hates ; 
I'll haunt thee like a wicked conscience still, 
That mouldeth goblins swift as frenzy thoughts. — 
Strike a free march to Troy ! — with comfort go : 
Hope of revenge shall hide our inward woe. 

TROILUS AND CRESSIDA, A. 5, S. 11. 



THE HERO'S PROGRESS. 

I shall lack voice : the deeds of Coriolanus 
Should not be utter' d feebly. — It is held, 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 429 

That valour is the chiefest virtue, and 
Most dignifies the haver : if it be, 
The man I speak of cannot in the world 
Be singly counterpois'd. At sixteen years, 
When Tarquin made a head for Borne, he fought 
Beyond the mark of others : our then dictator, 
"Whom with all praise I point at, saw him fight, 
When with his Amazonian chin he drove 
The bristled lips before him : he bestrid 
An o'er-press'd Boman, and i'the consul's view 
Slew three opposers : Tarquin' ] s self he met, 
And struck him on his knee : in that day's feats, 
"When he might act the woman in the scene, 
He prov'd best man i'the field, and for his meed 
Was brow-bound with the oak. His pupil age 
Man-enter' d thus, he waxed like a sea ; 
And, in the brunt of seventeen battles since, 
He lurch' d all swords o'the garland. For this 

last, 
Before and in Corioli, let me say, 
I cannot speak him home : He stopp'd the fliers ; 
And, by his rare example, made the coward 
Turn terror into sport : as waves before 
A vessel under sail, so men obey'd, 
And fell below his stem: his sword (death's 

stamp) 
Where it did mark, it took ; from face to foot 
He was a thing of blood, whose every motion 
Was tim'd with dying cries : alone he enter' d 
The mortal gate o'the city, which he painted 
With shunless destiny, aidless came off, 
And with a sudden re-enforcement struck 
Corioli, like a planet : Xow all's his : 
When by and by the din of war 'gan pierce 
His ready sense: then straight his doubled spirit 
Ke-quicken'd what in flesh was fatigate, 



430 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

And to the battle came he ; where he did 
Run reeking o'er the lives of men, as if 
'Twere a perpetual spoil : and, till we call'd 
Both field and city ours, he never stood 
To ease his breast with panting. 
Our spoils he kick'd at ; 
And look'd upon things precious, as they were 
The common muck o'the world ; he covets less 
Than misery itself would give ; rewards 
His deeds with doing them ; and is content 
To spend the time, to end it. 

CORIOLANUS, A. 2, S. 2. 



THE HIGHEST FLIGHTS HAVE OFT 
THE DEEPEST FALLS. 

So farewell to the little good you bear me. 
Farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatness ! 
This is the state of man ; To-day he puts forth 
The tender leaves of hope, to-morrow blossoms, 
And bears his blushing honours thick upon him: 
The third day, comes a frost, a killing frost ; 
And, — when he thinks, good easy man, full 

surely 
His greatness is a ripening, — nips his root, 
And then he falls, as I do. I have ventur'd, 
Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, 
This many summers in a sea of glory ; 
But far beyond my depth : my high-blown pride 
At length broke under me ; and now has left me, 
"Weary, and old with service, to the mercy 
Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me. 
Vain pomp, and glory of this world, I hate ye ; 
I feel my heart new opened : 0, how wretched 
Is that poor man, that hangs on princes' favours! 
There is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to, 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 4.3 1 

That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin, 
More pangs and fears than Avars or wonien have ; 
And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, 
Never to hope again. 

K. HENRY VIII., A. 3, S. 2. 



THE HUMAN FANG (SLANDER). 

What shall I need to draw my sword? the 

paper 
Hath cut her throat already. — No, 'tis slander ; 
"Whose edge is sharper than the sword ; whose 

tongue 
Outvenoms all the worms of Nile; whose breath 
Eides on the posting winds, and doth belie 
All corners of the world : kings, queens, and 

states, 
Maids, matrons, nay, the secrets of the grave 
This viperous slander enters. 

CYMBELINE, A. 3, S. 4. 



THE HUSBAND'S PREROGATIVE IN 

OLDEN TIME. 

Hark you, Kate ; 
I must not have you henceforth question me 
Whither I go, nor reason whereabout : 
Whither I must, I must ; and, to conclude, 
This evening must I leave you, gentle Kate. 
I know you wise ; but yet no further wise, 
Than Harry Percy's wife : constant you are ; 
But yet a woman : and for secrecy, 
No lady closer ; for I well believe, 
Thou wilt not utter what thou dost not know ; 
And so far will I trust thee, gentle Kate ! 

K. HENRY IV., PART I., A. 2, S. 4. 



432 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

THE INDISPENSABILITY OF CON- 
FIDENCE BETWEEN THE KING 
AND THE SUBJECT. 

Then are we all undone. 
It is not possible, it cannot be, 
The king should keep his word in loving us : 
He will suspect us still, and find a time 
To punish this offence in other faults : 
Suspicion shall be all stuck full of eyes : 
For treason is but trusted like the fox ; 
Who, ne'er so tame, so cherish' d, and lock'd up, 
Will have a wild trick of his ancestors. 
Look how we can, or sad, or merrily, 
Interpretation will misquote our looks ; 
And we shall feed like oxen at a stall, 
The better cherish' d, still the nearer death. 
My nephew's trespass may be well forgot, 
It hath the excuse of youth, and heat of blood ; 
And an adopted name of privilege, — 
A hare-brain' d Hotspur, govern' d by a spleen : 
All his offences live upon my head, 
And on his father's ; — we did train him on ; 
And, his corruption being ta'en from us, 
We, as the spring of all, shall pay for all. 

K. HENRY IV., PART I., A. 5, S. 2. 



THE INTRIGUING STEP-MOTHER. 

That such a crafty devil as is his mother 
Should yield the world this ass ! a woman, that 
Bears all down with her brain ; and this her son 
Cannot take two from twenty for his heart, 
And leave eighteen. Alas, poor princess, 
Thou divine Imogen, what thou endur'st ! 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 43 3 

Betwixt a father by thy step-dame govern' d ; 
A mother hourly coining plots ; a wooer, 
More hateful than the foul expulsion is 
Of thy dear husband, than that horrid act 
Of the divorce he'd make ! The heavens hold 

firm 
The walls of thy dear honour; keep unshak'd 
That temple, thy fair mind ; that thou may'st 

stand, 
To enjoy thy banish' d lord, and this great land. 

CYMBELINE, A. 2, S. 1. 



THE KING'S ADDRESS TO HIS 

SOLDIERS BEFORE THE BATTLE. 

Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once 

more; 
Or close the wall up with our English dead ! 
In peace, there's nothing so becomes a man, 
As modest stillness, and humility : 
But when the blast of war blows in our ears, 
Then imitate the action of the tiger ; 
Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood, 
Disguise fair nature with hard-favour' d rage : 
Then lend the eye a terrible aspect ; 
Let it pry through the portage of the head, 
Like the brass cannon ; let the brow o'erwhelm it, 
As fearfully, as doth a galled rock 
O'erhang and jutty his confounded base, 
Swill' d with the wild and wasteful ocean. 
Now set the teeth, and stretch the nostril wide ; 
Hold hard the breath, and bend up every spirit 
To his full height ! — On, on, you noblest English, 
"Whose blood is fetch' d from fathers of war-proof! 
Fathers, that, like so many Alexanders, 
Have, in these parts, from morn till even fought, 
2r 



43+ THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

And sheath' d their swords for lack of argument. 
Dishonour not your mothers ; now attest, 
That those, whom you call'd fathers, did beget 

you! 
Be copy now to men of grosser blood, 
And teach them how to war ! — And you, good 

yeomen, 
Whose limbs were made in England, show us 

here 
The mettle of your pasture ; let us swear 
That you are worth your breeding: which I 

doubt not ; 
For there is none of you so mean and base, 
That hath not noble lustre in your eyes. 
I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, 
Straining upon the start. The game's afoot ; 
Follow your spirit : and, upon this charge, 
Cry — God for Harry! England! and Saint 

George ! 

K. HENRF V., A. 3, S. 1. 



THE KING'S AGONY. 

K. Eichard. O God ! O God ! that e'er this 

tongue of mine, 
That laid the sentence of dread banishment 
On yon proud man, should take it off again 
"With words of sooth ! 0, that I were as great 
As is my grief, or lesser than my name ! 
Or that I could forget what I have been ! 
Or not remember what I must be now ! 
Swell' st thou, proud heart ? I'll give thee scope 

to beat, 
Since foes have scope to beat both thee and me. 
Aumerle. Norihumlerland comes back from 

Bolinglroke. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 435 

K. Rich. "What must tlie king do now? 
Must he submit ? 
The king shall do it. Must he be depos'd ? 
The king shall be contented : Must he lose 
The name of king ? o'Grod's name, let it go : 
I'll give my jewels, for a set of beads ; 
My gorgeous palace, for a hermitage ; 
My gay apparel, for an alms-man's gown ; 
My figur'd goblets, for a dish of wood ; 
My scepter, for a palmer's walking staff; 
My subjects, for a pair of carved saints ; 
And my large kingdom for a little grave, 
A little, little grave, an obscure grave : — 
Or I'll be buried in the king's highway, 
Some way of common trade, where subjects' feet 
May hourly trample on their sovereign's head: 
For on my heart they tread, now whilst I live ; 

And, buried once, why not upon my head ? 

Aztmerle, thou weep'st ; My tender-hearted cou- 
sin ! — 
We'll make foul weather with despised tears ; 
Our sighs, and they, shall lodge the summer 

corn, 
And make a dearth in this revolting land. 
Or shall we play the wantons with our woes, 
And make some pretty match with shedding 

tears ? 
As thus ; — To drop them still upon one place, 
Till they have fretted us a pair of graves 
Within the earth; and, therein laid, — There 

lies 
Two kinsmen, digged their graves with iveeping 

eyes ! 
Would not this ill do well ? — Well, well, I see 
I talk but idly, and you mock at me. — 
Most mighty prince, my lord Northumberland, 



436 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

"What says king Bolinglrolce ? will his majesty 
Give Richard leave to live till Richard die ? 
You make a leg, and Bolinglrohe says — ay. 

K. RICHARD II., A. 3, S. 3. 



THE KING AND THE GARDENER. 

Queen. And I could weep, would weeping 
do me good, 
And never borrow any tear of thee. 
But stay, here come the gardeners : 
Let's step into the shadow of these trees. — 

Enter a Gardener and two Servants. 

My wretchedness unto a row of pins, 
They'll talk of state : for every one doth so 
Against a change : "Woe is forerun with woe. 

[Queen and Ladies retire. 

Gaedenee. Go, bind thou up yon' dangling 
apricocks, 
Which, like unruly children, make their sire 
Stoop with oppression of their prodigal weight : 
Give some supportance to the bending twigs. — 
Go thou, and like an executioner, 
Cut off the heads of too-fast-growing sprays, 
That look too lofty in our commonwealth • 

All must be even in our government. 

Tou thus employ' d, I will go root away 
The noisome weeds, that without profit suck 
The soil's fertility from wholesome flowers. 

1st Seevant. Why should we, in the compass 
of a pale, 
Keep law, and form, and due proportion, 
Showing, as in a model, our firm estate ? 
When our sea- walled garden, the whole land, 
Is full of weeds ; her fairest flowers chok'd up, 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 43 7 

Her fruit-trees all unprun'd, her hedges ruin'd, 
Her knots disorder' d, and her wholesome herbs 
Swarming with caterpillars ? 

GrARD. Hold thy peace : — 

He that hath suffer' d this disorder' d spring, 
Hath now himself met with the fall of leaf: 
The weeds, that his broad-spreading leaves did 

shelter, 
That seem'd in eating him to hold him up, 
Are pluck' d up, root and all, by BolinghroTce ; 
I mean the Earl of Wiltshire, Bushy, Green. 

1 Sery. What, are they dead ? 

G-ard. They are ; and BolingbroJce 

Hath seiz'd the wasteful king. — Oh ! what pity 

is it, 
That he had not so trimm'd and dress' d his land, 
As we this garden ! We at time of year 
Do wound the bark, the skin of our fruit-trees ; 
Lest, being over-proud with sap and blood, 
With too much riches it confound itself : 
Had he done so to great and growing men, 
They might have liv'd to bear, and he to taste 
Their fruits of duty. All superfluous branches 
We lop away, that bearing boughs may live : 
Had he done so, himself had borne the crown, 
Which waste of idle hours hath quite thrown 
down. 

1 Sery. What, think you then, the king 
shall be depos'd ? 

GrARD. Depress' d he is already ; and depos'd, 
'Tis doubt, he will be : Letters came last night 
To a dear friend of the good duke of York's, 
That tell black tidings. 

Queee". O, I am press'd to death, 

Through want of speaking ! — Thou, old Adam's 
likeness, [Coming from her concealment. 



438 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Set to dress this garden, how dares 

Thy harsh-rude tongue sound this unpleasing 

news? 
What Eve, what serpent hath suggested thee 
To make a second fall of cursed man ? 
"Why dost thou say, king Richard is depos'd ? 
Dar'st thou, thou little better thing than 

earth, 
Divine his downfall? Say, where, when, and 

how, 
Cam'st thou by these ill-tidings? speak, thou 

wretch. 
GrABD. Pardon me, madam ; little joy have I, 
To breathe this news : yet, what I say is true. 
King Bichard, he is in the mighty hold 
Of JBolinglrohe ; their fortunes both are weigh' d: 
In your lord's scale is nothing but himself, 
And some few vanities that make him light ; 
But in the balance of great Polingbroke, 
Besides himself, are all the English peers, 
And with that odds he weighs king Pichard 

down. 
Post you to London, and you'll find it so : 
I speak no more than every one doth know. 
Queen. Nimble mischance, that art so light 

of foot, 
Doth not thy embassage belong to me, 
And am I last that knows it ? O, thou think' st 
To serve me last, that I may longest keep 
Thy sorrow in my breast. — Come, ladies, go, 
To meet at London London's king in woe. — 
What, was I born to this ! that my sad look 
Should grace the triumph of great Polingbrolce ? 
Gardener, for telling me this news of woe, 
I would, the plants thou graft' st, may never 

grow. [Exeunt Queen and Ladies. 



WILLIAM SSAKLJSPUABK 439 

Gtaed. Poor queen ! so that thy state might 
be no worse, 
I would my skill were subject to thy curse. — 
Here did she drop a tear ; here, in this place, 
I'll set a bank of rue, sour herb of grace : 
Rue, even for ruth, here shortly shall be seen, 
In the remembrance of a weeping queen. 

K. RICHARD II., A. 3, S. 4. 



THE KING'S DEATH. 

Groom. Hail, royal prince ! 
K. Richard. Thanks, noble peer ; 

The cheapest of us is ten groats too dear. 
"What art thou ? and how comest thou hither, 
Where no man never comes, but that sad dog 
That brings me food, to make misfortune live ? 
G-room. I was a poor groom of thy stable, 
king, 
When thou wert king ; who, travelling towards 

York, 
With much ado, at length have gotten leave 
To look upon my sometimes master's face. 
O, how it yearn' d my heart, when I beheld, 
In London streets that coronation day, 
When JBolinglrohe rode on roan Barhary ! 
That horse, that thou so often hast bestrid ; 
That horse, that I so carefully have dress' d! 
K. Rich. Rode he on Barbary ? Tell me, 
gentle friend, 
How went he under him ? 

Groom. So proudly, as if he disdain' d the 

ground. 
K. Rich. So proud that Bolingbrohe was on 
his back ! 



44o THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

That jade hath eat bread from my royal hand ; 
This hand hath made him proud with clapping 

him. 
"Would he not stumble? Would he not fall 

down, 
(Since pride must have a fall,) and break the 

neck 
Of that proud man, that did usurp his back ? 
Forgiveness, horse ! why do I rail on thee, 
Since thou, created to be aw'd by man, 
"Was born to bear ? I was not made a horse ; 
And yet I bear a burden like an ass, 
Spur-gall'd, and tir'd by jauncing Bolinglrohe. 

Enter Keeper, with a dish. 

Keepee. Fellow, give place ; here is no lon- 
ger stay. [To the Groom. 

K. Rich. If thou love me, 'tis time thou 
wert away. 

G-eoom. What my tongue dares not, that 
my heart shall say. [Exit. 

Keep. My lord, will't please you to fall to ? 

K. Rich. Taste of it first, as thou art wont 
to do. 

Keep. My lord, I dare not; sir Pierce of 
Exton, who 
Lately came from the king, commands the con- 
trary. 

K. Rich. The devil take Henry of Lancaster, 
and thee ! 
Patience is stale, and I am weary of it. 

[Beats the Keeper. 

Keep. Help, help, help ! 

Enter Exton, and Servants, armed. 

K. Rich. How now ? what means death in 
this rude assault ? 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 441 

Villain, thy own hand yields thy death's instru- 
ment. {Snatching a weapon, and killing one. 

Gro thou, and fill another room in hell. 

{He hills another, then Extoist strikes him down. 

That hand shall burn in never-quenching fire, 

That staggers thus my person. — Exton, thy fierce 
hand 

Hath with the king's blood stain' d the king's 
own land. 

Mount, mount, my soul! thy seat is up on 
high; 

Whilst my gross flesh sinks downward, here to 
die. {Dies. 

K. RICHARD II., A. 5, S. 5. 



THE KING'S DEATH. 

Why, so: — now have T done a good day's work ; — 
You peers, continue this united league : 
I every day expect an embassage 
Erom my Redeemer to redeem me hence ; 
And more in peace my soul shall part to heaven, 
Since I have made my friends at peace on earth. 
Rivers and Hastings, take each other's hand ; 
Dissemble not your hatred, swear your love. 
Take heed, you dally not before your king ; 
Lest he, that is the supreme King of kings, 
Confound your hidden falsehood, and award 
Either of you to be the other's end. 
Madam, yourself are not exempt in this, — 
Nor your son Dorset, — Buckingham, nor you ; — 
Tou have been factious one against the other. 
"Wife, love lord Hastings, let him kiss your hand; 
And what you do, do it unfeignedly. 



4+2 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Dorset, embrace him, — Hastings, love lord mar- 
quis. 
Now, princely Buckingham, seal thou this league 
With thy embracements to my wife's allies, 
And make me happy in your unity. 

K. RICHARD III., A. 2. S. 1. 



THE KING'S DESPAIR 

I know you ; "Where's the king ? 
Contending with the fretful elements ; 
Bids the wind blow the earth into the sea, 
Or swell the curled waters 'bove the main, 
That things might change, or cease: tears his 

white hair ; 
Which the impetuous blasts, with eyeless rage, 
Catch in their fury, and make nothing of: 
Strives in his little world of man to out-scorn 
The to-and-fro conflicting wind and rain. 
This night, wherein the cub-drawn bear would 

couch, 
The lion and the belly-pinched wolf 
Keep their fur dry, unbonneted he runs, 
And bids what will take all. 

KING LEAR, A. 3, S. 1. 



THE KING'S GRIEF THAT HE HAD 
NOT SEEN THE FAITH SOONER. 

Queen. This way the king will come ; this 
is the way 
To Julius Caesar's ill-erected tower, 
To whose flint bosom my condemned lord 
Is doom'd a prisoner by proud Bolingbrolce : 
Here let us rest, if this rebellious earth 
Have any resting for her true king's queen. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 443 

Enter Kikg- Richard and Guards. 
But soft, but see, or rather do not see, 
My fair rose wither : Yet look up ; behold ; 
That you in pity may dissolve to dew, 
And wash him fresh again with true-love tears. — 
Ah, thou, the model where old Troy did stand ; 
Thou map of honour ; thou king Richard's tomb, 
And not king Richard; thou most beauteous Inn, 
Why should hard-favour' d grief be lodg'd in 

thee, 
When triumph is become an alehouse guest ? 
K. Eichaed. Join not with grief, fair woman, 

do not so, 
To make my end too sudden : learn, good soul, 
To think our former state a happy dream ; 
From which awak'd, the truth of what we are 
Shows us but this : I am sworn brother, sweet, 
To grim necessity ; and he and I 
Will keep a league till death. Hie thee to 

France, 
And cloister thee in some religious house : 
Our holy lives must win a new world's crown, 
Which our profane hours here have stricken down. 
Qtjee:n\ What, is my Richard both in shape 

and mind 
Transform' d, and weaken' d ? Hath Rolinglrohe 
Depos'd thine intellect ? Hath he been in thy 

heart ? 
The lion, dying, thrusteth forth his paw, 
And wounds the earth, if nothing else, with rage 
To be overpower' d ; and wilt thou, pupil-like, 
Take thy correction mildly ? kiss the rod ; 
And fawn on rage with base humility, 
Which art a lion, and a king of beasts ? 

K. Eich. A king of beasts, indeed ; if aught 

but beasts, 



444 XSW PHILOSOPHY OF 

I had been still a happy king of men. 

Grood sometime queen, prepare thee hence for 

France : 
Think, I am dead; and that even here thou tak'st, 
As from my death-bed, my last living leave. 
In winter's tedious nights, sit by the fire 
With good old folks ; and let them tell thee tales 
Of woeful ages, long ago betid : 
And, ere thou bid good night, to quit their grief, 
Tell thou the lamentable fall of me, 
And send the hearers weeping to their beds. 
For why, the senseless brands will sympathize 
The heavy accent of thy moving tongue, 
And, in compassion, weep the fire out : 
And some will mourn in ashes, some coal-black, 
For the deposing of a rightful king. 

K. RICHARD II., A. 5, S. 1. 



THE KING'S LAMENT FOR A 
FAITHFUL SERVANT. 

K. Henry. My lords, what to your wisdoms 
seemeth best, 
Do, or undo, as if ourself were here. 

Q. Makgabet. What, will your highness 

leave the parliament ? 
K. Hen - . Ay, Margaret; my heart is drown' d 
with grief, 
"Whose flood begins to flow within mine eyes ; 
My body round engirt with misery ; 
For what's more miserable than discontent ? — 
Ah, uncle Humphrey ! in thy face I see 
The map of honour, truth, and loyalty ; 
And yet, good Humphrey, is the hour to come, 
That e'er I proved thee false, or fear'd thy faith. 



WILLIAM SSAKESPEAEJE. 445 

"What low'ring star now envies thy estate, 
That these great lords, and Margaret our queen, 
Do seek subversion of thy harmless life ? 
Thou never didst them wrong, nor no man 

wrong: 
And as the butcher takes away the calf, 
And binds the wretch, and beats it when it strays, 
Bearing it to the bloody slaughter-house ; 
Even so, remorseless, have they borne him hence. 
And as the dam runs lowing up and down, 
Looking the way her harmless young one went, 
And can do nought but wail her darling's loss ; 
Even so myself bewails good Gloster' s case, 
With sad unhelpful tears ; and with dimm'd eyes 
Look after him, and cannot do him good ; 
So mighty are his vowed enemies. 
His fortunes I will weep ; and, 'twixt each groan, 
Say — Who's a traitor, Gloster he is none. 

[Exit. 
Q. Mae. Eree lords, cold snow melts with 

the sun's hot beams. 
'Henry my lord is cold in great affairs, 
Too full of foolish pity : and Gloster *s show 
Beguiles him, as the mournful crocodile 
"With sorrow snares relenting passengers ; 
Or as the snake, roll'd in a flowering bank, 
With shining checker' d slough, doth sting a 

child, 
That, for the beauty, thinks it excellent. 
Believe me, lords, were none more wise than I, 
(And yet, herein, I judge mine own wit good,) 
This Gloster should be quickly rid the world, 
To rid us from the fear we have of him. 

Cardinal. That he should die, is worthy 

policy : 
But yet we want a colour for his death : 



446 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

'Tis meet lie be condemn' d by course of law. 
Suffolk. But, in my mind, that were no 

policy : 
The king will labour still to save his life ; 
The commons haply rise to save his life ; 
And we yet have but trivial argument, 
More than mistrust, that shows him worthy 

death. 

K. HENRY VI., PART II., A. 3, S. 1. 



THE KING'S LIVING DEATH. 

Why doth the crown lie there upon his pillow, 
Being so troublesome a bedfellow ? 
O polish' d perturbation ! golden care ! 
That keep'st the ports of slumber open wide 
To many a watchful night ! — sleep with it now ! 
Tet not so sound, and half so deeply sweet, 
As he, whose brow, with homely biggin bound, 
Snores out the watch of night. O majesty ! 
When thou dost pinch thy bearer, thou dost sit 
Like a rich armour worn in heat of day, 
That scalds with safety. By his gates of breath 
There lies a downy feather, which stirs not : 
Did he suspire, that light and weightless down 
Perforce must move. — My gracious lord! my 

father ! 
This sleep is sound indeed ; this is a sleep, 
That from this golden rigol hath divorc'd 
So many English kings. Thy due, from me, 
Is tears, and heavy sorrows of the blood ; 
Which nature, love, and filial tenderness, 
Shall, O dear father, pay thee plenteously : 
My due, from thee, is this imperial crown ; 
Which, as immediate from thy place and blood, 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 447 

Derives itself to me. Lo, here it sits, — 

[Putting it on Ms head. 
"Which heaven shall guard : And put the world's 

whole strength 
Into one giant arm, it shall not force 
This lineal honour from me : This from thee 
"Will I to mine leave, as 'tis left to me. 

K. HENRY IV., PART II., A. 4, S. 4. 



THE KING ON THE GREAT 
DIFFICULTY. 

My lord cardinal, 
I do excuse you ; yea, upon mine honour, 
I free you from't. You are not to be taught 
That you have many enemies, that know not 
"Why they are so, but, like to village curs, 
Bark when their fellows do : by some of these 
The queen is put in anger. You are excus'd : 
But will you be more justified ? you ever 
Have wish'd the sleeping of this business ; never 
Desir'd it to be stirr'd ; but oft have hindered ; 

oft 
The passages made toward it : — on my honour, 
I speak my good lord cardinal to this point, 
And thus far clear him. Now, what mov'd me 

to't,— 
I will be bold with time, and your attention : — 
Then mark the inducement. Thus it came; — 

give heed to't : 
My conscience first receiv'd a tenderness, 
Scruple, and prick, on certain speeches utter' d 
By the bishop of Bayonne, then French am- 
bassador ; 
"Who had been hither sent on the debating 



448 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

A marriage, 'twixt the duke of Orleans and 
Our daughter Mary: V the progress of this 

business, 
Ere a determinate resolution, he 
(I mean, the bishop) did require a respite; 
Wherein he might the king his lord advertise 
"Whether our daughter were legitimate, 
Respecting this our marriage with the dowager, 
Sometimes our brother's wife. This respite shook 
The bosom of my conscience, enter' d me, 
Tea, with a splitting power, and made to tremble 
The region of my breast ; which forc'd such way, 
That many maz'd considerings did throng, 
And press' d in with this caution. First, me- 

thought, 
I stood not in the smile of heaven ; who had 
Commanded nature, that my lady's womb, 
If it conceiv'd a male child by me, should 
Do no more offices of life to't, than 
The grave does to the dead : for her male issue 
Or died where they were made, or shortly after 
This world had air'd them : Hence I took a 

thought, 
This was a judgment on me ; that my kingdom, 
"Well worthy the best heir o'the world, should not 
Be gladded in't by me : Then follows, that 
I weigh' d the danger which my realms stood in 
By this my issue's fail ; and that gave to me 
Many a groaning throe. Thus hulling in 
The wild sea of my conscience, I did steer 
Toward this remedy, whereupon we are 
Now present here together ; that's to say, 
I meant to rectify my conscience, — which 
I then did feel full sick, and yet not well, — 
By all the reverend fathers of the land, 
And doctors learn' d. — First, I began in private 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEABE. 449 

With you, my lord of Lincoln ; you remember 
How under my oppression I did reek, 
When I first moved you. 

I then mov'd you, 
My lord of Canterbury ; and got your leave 
To make this present summons : — Unsolicited 
I left no reverend person in this court ; 
But by particular consent proceeded, 
Under your hands and seals. Therefore, go on ; 
For no dislike i'the world against the person 
Of the good queen, but the sharp thorny points 
Of my alleged reasons, drive this forward : 
Prove but our marriage lawful, by my life, 
And kingly dignity, we are contented 
To wear our mortal state to come, with her, 
Katharine our queen, before the primest creature 
That's paragon' d o'the world. 

K. HENRY VIII., A. 2, S. 4. 



THE KING'S PRAYER BEFORE THE 
DECISIVE BATTLE. 

O God of battles ! steel my soldiers' hearts ! 
Possess them not with fear ; take from them now 
The sense of reckoning, if the opposed numbers 
Pluck their hearts from them ! — Not to-day, O 
Lord, 

not to-day, think not upon the fault 
My father made in compassing the crown ! 

1 BicTiard's body have interred new ; 

And on it have bestow' d more contrite tears, 
Than from it issued forced drops of blood. 
Five hundred poor I have in yearly pay, 
"Who twice a day their wither' d hands hold up 
2 a 



450 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Toward heaven, to pardon blood; and I have 

built 
Two chantries, where the sad and solemn priests 
Sing still for Richard's soul. More will I do : 
Though all that I can do, is nothing worth ; 
Since that my penitence comes after all, 
Imploring pardon. 

K. HENRY V., A. 4, S. 1. 



THE KING'S PROPHECY OF THE 
BATTLE. 

What's he, that wishes so ? 
My cousin Westmoreland? — No, my fair cousin: 
If we are mark'd to die, we are enough 
To do our country loss ; and if to live, 
The fewer men, the greater share of honour. 
God's will ! I pray thee, wish not one man more. 
By Jove, I am not covetous for gold ; 
Nor care I, who doth feed upon my cost ; 
It yearns me not, if men my garments wear ; 
Such outward things dwell not in my desires : 
But, if it be a sin to covet honour, 
I am the most offending soul alive. 
No, 'faith, my coz, wish not a man from England: 
God's peace! I would not lose so great an honour, 
As one man more, methinks, would share from 

me, 
Por the best hope I have. O, do not wish one 

more : 
Bather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my 

host, 
That he, which hath no stomach to this fight, 
Let him depart ; his passport shall be made, 
And crowns for convoy put into his purse : 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 45 1 

We would not die in that man's company, 

That fears his fellowship to die with us. 

This day is call'd — the feast of Crispian : 

He, that outlives this day, and comes safe home, 

"Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam'd, 

And rouse him at the name of Crispian. 

He, that shall live this day, and see old age, 

"Will yearly on the vigil feast his friends, 

And say — to-morrow is Saint Crispian : 

Then will he strip his sleeve, and show his scars, 

And say — these wounds I had on Crispin's day. 

Old men forget ; yet all shall be forgot, 

But he'll remember, with advantages, 

"What feats he did that day: Then shall our 

names, 
Familiar in their mouths as household words, — 
Harry the king, Bedford and Exeter, 
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloster, — 
Be in their flowing cups freshly remember' d: 
This story shall the good man teach his son ; 
And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by, 
[From this day to the ending of the world, 
But we in it shall be remember' d : 
"We few, we happy few, we band of brothers ; 
For he, to-day that sheds his blood with me, 
Shall be my brother ; be he ne'er so vile, 
This day shall gentle his condition : 
And gentlemen in England, now a-bed, 
Shall think themselves accurs'd, they were not 

here; 
And hold their manhoods cheap, while any 

speaks, 
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day. 

K. HENRY V„ A. 4, S. 3* 



452 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

THE KING'S REPROACHFUL 
APPEAL TO HIS DAUGHTER. 

Thou shalt never have my curse ; 
Thy tender-hefted nature shall not give 
Thee o'er to harshness ; her eyes are fierce, but 

thine 
Do comfort, and not burn : 'Tis not in thee 
To grudge my pleasures, to cut off my train, 
To bandy hasty words, to scant my sizes, 
And, in conclusion, to oppose the bolt 
Against my coming in : thou better know'st 
The offices of nature, bond of childhood, 
Effects of courtesy, dues of gratitude ; 
Thy half o'the kingdom hast thou not forgot, 
Wherein I thee endow' d. 

KING LEAR, A. 2, S. 4. 



THE KING THE BEST MORALIST. 

Clifford. My gracious liege, this too much 

lenity 
And harmful pity must be laid aside. 
To whom do lions cast their gentle looks ? 
Not to the beast that would usurp their den. 
Whose hand is that, the forest bear doth lick ? 
Not his, that spoils her young before her face. 
Who 'scapes the lurking serpent's mortal sting ? 
Not he that sets his foot upon her back. 
The smallest worm will turn, being trodden on ; 
And doves will peck, in safeguard of their 

brood. 
Ambitious York did level at thy crown, 
Thou smiling, while he knit his angry brows : 
He, but a duke, would have his son a king, 
And raise his issue, like a loving sire ; 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 453 

Thou, being a king, bless' d with a goodly son, 
Didst yield consent to disinherit him, 
"Which argued thee a most unloving father. 
Unreasonable creatures feed their young : 
And though man's face be fearful to their eyes, 
Yet in protection of their tender ones, 
Who hath not seen them (even with those 

wings 
Which sometime they have used with fearful 

eight,). 

Make war with him that climb' d unto their nest, 
Offering their own lives in their young's de- 
fence ? 
For shame, my liege, make them your precedent ! 
Were it not pity, that this goodly boy 
Should lose his birthright by his father's fault ; 
And long hereafter say unto his child, — 
What my great-grandfather and grandsire got, 
My careless father fondly gave away? 
Ah, what a shame were this ! Look on the boy ; 
And let his manly face, which promiseth 
Successful fortune, steel thy melting heart, 
To hold thine own, and leave thine own with 
him. 
K. He^et. Full well hath Clifford play'd the 
orator, 
Inferring arguments of mighty force. 
But, Clifford, tell me, didst thou never hear, — 
That things ill got had ever bad success ? 
And happy always was it for that son, 
Whose father for his hoarding went to hell ? 
I'll leave my son my virtuous deeds behind ; 
And 'would, my father had left me no more ! 
For all the rest is held at such a rate, 
As brings a thousand-fold more care to keep, 
Than in possession any jot of pleasure. 



454 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Ah, cousin York! 'would thy best friends did 

know, 
How it doth grieve me that thy head is here ! 

K. HENRY VI., PART III., A. 2, S. 2. 



THE KING, THE FATHER, AND THE 
SON, PHILOSOPHISE ON THE 
NATURE OF TIME AND EXILE. 

Bolingbroke. How long a time lies in one 

little word ! 
Pour lagging winters, and four wanton springs, 
End in a word ; Such is the breath of kings. 
Gaunt. I thank my liege, that, in regard of 

me, 
He shortens four years of my son's exile : 
But little vantage shall I reap thereby ; 
Por, ere the six years, that he hath to spend, 
Can change their moons, and bring their times 

about, 
My oil-dried lamp, and time-bewasted light, 
Shall be extinct with age, and endless night ; 
My inch of taper will be burnt and done, 
And blindfold death not let me see my son. 
K. Richard. "Why, uncle, thou hast many 

years to live. 
Gaunt. But not a minute, king, that thou 

canst give : 
Shorten my days thou canst with sullen sorrow, 
And pluck nights from me, but not lend a 

morrow : 
Thou canst help time to farrow me with age, 
But stop no wrinkle in his pilgrimage ; 
Thy word is current with him for my death : 
But, dead, thy kingdom cannot buy my breath. 



WILLIAM SHAKJESPEABE 45 5 

K. Bich. Thy son is banish' d upon good 
advice, 
Whereto thy tongue a party-verdict gave ; 
Why at our justice seem'st thou then to lower ? 
Gatjnt. Things sweet to taste, prove in 
digestion sour. 
You urg'd me as a judge ; but I had rather, 
Tou would have bid me argue like a father : — 
O, had it been a stranger, not my child, 
To smooth his fault I should have been more 

mild: 
A partial slander sought I to avoid, 
And in the sentence my own life destroy' d. 
Alas, I look'd, when some of you should say, 
I was too strict, to make mine own away ; 
But you gave leave to mine unwilling tongue, 
Against my will, to do myself this wrong. 
K. Bich.- Cousin, farewell : — and, uncle, bid 
him so ; 
Six years we banish him, and he shall go. 

[^Flourish. Exeunt K. Bichard and Train. 
Attmerle. Cousin, farewell: what presence 
must not know, 
Erom where do you remain, let paper show. 
Marshal. My lord, no leave take I ; for I 
will ride 
As far as land will let me, by your side. 

Gaunt. 0, to what purpose dost thou hoard 
thy words, 
That thou return' st no greeting to thy friends ? 
Boling. I have too few to take my leave of 
you, 
When the tongue's office should be prodigal 
To breathe the abundant dolour of the heart. 
Gaunt. Thy grief is but thy absence for a 
time. 



456 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Bolistgl Joy absent, grief is present for that 

time. 
GrAUNT. What is six winters ? they are 

quickly gone. 
Bolingl To men in joy ; but grief makes one 

hour ten. 
Gaunt. Call it a travel that thou tak'st for 

pleasure. 
Bolhstg. My heart will sigh, when I miscall 
it so, 
Which finds it an enforced pilgrimage. 

Gaunt. The sullen passage of thy weary 
steps 
Esteem a foil, wherein thou art to set 
The precious jewel of thy home-return. 

BoLii^a. Nay, rather, every tedious stride I 
make 
Will but remember me, what a deal of world 
I wander from the jewels that I love. 
Must I not serve a long apprenticehood 
To foreign passages ; and in the end, 
Having my freedom, boast of nothing else 
But that I was a journeyman to grief? 

Gaunt. All places that the eye of heaven 
visits, 
Are to a wise man ports and happy havens : 
Teach thy necessity to reason thus ; 
There is no virtue like necessity. 
Think not, the king did banish thee ; 
But thou the king : Woe doth the heavier sit, 
Where it perceives it is but faintly borne. 
Go, say — I sent thee forth to purchase honour, 
And not — the king exiled thee : or suppose, 
Devouring pestilence hangs in our air, 
And thou art flying to a fresher clime. 
Look, what thy soul holds dear, imagine it 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 45 7 

To lie that way thou go'st, not whence thou 

com'st. 
Suppose the singing birds, musicians ; 
The grass whereon thou tread'st, the presence 

strew'd ; 
The flowers, fair ladies ; and thy steps, no more 
Than a delightful measure, or a dance : 
For gnarling sorrow hath less power to bite 
The man that mocks at it, and sets it light. 
BoLiNG. 0, who can hold a fire in his 

hand, 
By thinking on the frosty Caucasus ? 
Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite, 
By bare imagination of a feast ? 
Or wallow naked in December snow, 
By thinking on fantastick summer's heat ? 
O, no ! the apprehension of the good, 
Gives but the greater feeling to the worse : 
Fell sorrow's tooth doth never rankle more, 
Than when it bites, but lanceth not the sore. 
Gatjkt. Come, come, my son, I'll bring thee 

on thy way : 
Had I thy youth and cause, I would not stay. 
Boling-. Then, England 's ground, farewell; 

sweet soil, adieu ; 
My mother, and my nurse, that bears me yet ! 

Where'er I wander, boast of this I can,- 

Though banish' d, yet a trueborn Englishman. 

K. RICHARD II.- A. 1, S. 3. 






THE KING THE PRINCE OF 

WARRIORS. 

I peat thee, bear my former answer back ; 
Bid them achieve me, and then sell my bones. 



458 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Good God ! why should they mock poor fellows 

thus? 
The man, that once did sell the lion's skin 
While the beast liv'd, was kill'd with hunting 

him. 
A many of our bodies shall, no doubt, 
Find native graves ; upon the which, I trust, 
Shall witness live in brass of this day's work : 
And those that leave their valiant bones in 

France, 
Dying like men, though buried in your dunghills, 
They shall be fam'd; for there the sun shall 

greet them, 
And draw their honours reeking up to heaven ; 
Leaving their earthly parts to choke your clime, 
The smell whereof shall breed a plague in France. 
Mark then a bounding valour in our English ; 
That, being dead, like to the bullet's grazing, 
Break out into a second course of mischief, 
Killing in relapse of mortality. 
Let me speak proudly ; — Tell the Constable, 
We are but warriors for the working-day : 
Our gayness, and our gilt, are all besmirch' d 
With rainy marching in the painful field-; 
There's not a piece of feather in our host, 
(Good argument, I hope, we shall not fly,) 
And time hath worn us into slovenry : 
But, by the mass, our hearts are in the trim : 
And my poor soldiers tell me — yet ere night 
They'll be in fresher robes ; or they will pluck 
The gay new coats o'er the French soldiers' 

heads, 
And turn them out of service. If they do this, 
(As, if God please, they shall,) my ransome then 
Will soon be levied. Herald, save thou thy 

labour ; 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 459 

Come thou no more for ransome, gentle herald ; 
They shall have none, I swear, but these my 

joints : 
Which if they have as I will leave 'em to them, 
Shall yield them little, tell the Constable. 

K. HENRY V., A. 4, S. 3. 



THE KING'S WARNING TO THE 
ARCHBISHOP. 

Cbanmer. Most dread liege, 

The good I stand on is my truth, and honesty ; 
If they shall fail, I, with mine enemies, 
Will triumph o'er my person; which I weigh 

not, 
Being of those virtues vacant. I fear nothing 
What can be said against me. 

K. Henry. Know you not how 

Tour state stands i'the world, with the whole 

world ? 
Tour enemies 

Are many, and not small ; their practices 
Must bear the same proportion ; and not ever 
The justice and the truth o'the question carries 
The due o'the verdict with it : at what ease 
Might corrupt minds procure knaves as corrupt 
To swear against you: such things have been 

done. 
Tou are potently oppos'd ; and with a malice 
Of as great size. Ween you of better luck, 
I mean, in perjur'd witness, than your Master, 
Whose minister you are, whiles here he liv'd 
Upon this naughty earth ? Go to, go to ; 
Tou take a precipice for no leap of danger, 
And woo your own destruction. 



460 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Be of good cheer ; 
They shall no more prevail, than we give way to. 
Keep comfort to you ; and this morning see 
You do appear before them ; if they shall chance, 
In charging you with matters, to commit you, 
The best persuasions to the contrary 
Fail not to use, and with what vehemency 
The occasion shall instruct you : if entreaties 
Will render you no remedy, this ring 
Deliver them, and your appeal to us 
There make before them. — Look, the good man 

weeps ! 
He's honest, on mine honour. G-od's blest 

mother ! 
I swear, he's true-hearted ; and a soul 
None better in my kingdom. — Get you gone, 
And do as I have bid you. — [Exit Cranmer.] 

He has strangled 
His language in his tears. 

K. HENRY VIII., A. 5, S. 1. 



THE LADY'S TREASURY OF 
SECRETS REVEALED. 

Portia. By my troth, JSferissa, my little 
body is a-weary of this great world. 

Nerissa. You would be, sweet madam, if 
your miseries were in the same abundance as 
your good fortunes are: And yet, for aught I 
see, they are as sick, that surfeit with too much, 
as they that starve with nothing : It is no mean 
happiness therefore, to be seated in the mean ; 
superfluity comes sooner by white hairs^ but 
competency lives longer. 




Pob. Good sentences, and well pronounced. 

Neb. They would be better, if well followed. 

Pob. If to do were as easy as to know what 
were good to do, chapels had been churches, and 
poor men's cottages, princes' palaces. It is a 
good divine that follows his own instructions : 
I can easier teach twenty what were good to be 
done, than be one of the twenty to follow mine 
own teaching. The brain may devise laws for 
the blood ; but a hot temper leaps over a cold 
decree : such a hare is madness the youth, to 
skip o'er the meshes of good counsel the cripple. 
But this reasoning is not in the fashion to choose 
me a husband: — me, the word choose! I 
may neither choose whom I would, nor refuse 
whom I dislike ; so is the will of a living 
daughter curb'd by the will of a dead father : — 
Is it not hard, Nerissa, that I cannot choose 
one, nor refuse none ? 

Neb. Tour father was ever virtuous ; and 
holy men, at their death, have good inspirations ; 
therefore, the lottery, that he hath devised in 
these three chests, of gold, silver, and lead, 
(whereof who chooses his meaning, chooses you,) 
will, no doubt, never be chosen by any rightly, 
but one who you shall rightly love. But what 
warmth is there in your affection towards any 
of these princely suitors that are already come ? 

Pob. I pray thee, over-name them ; and as 
thou namest them, I will describe them; and 
according to my description, level at my affec- 
tion. 

Nee. First, there is the Neapolitan prince. 

Pob. Ay, that's a colt, indeed, for he doth 
nothing but talk of his horse ; and he makes it 
a great appropriation to his own good parts, that 



462 THE PHILOSOPHY OP 

he can shoe him himself : I am much afraid, my 
lady his mother played false with a smith. 

Nee. Then, is there the county Palatine. 

Por. He doth nothing but frown; as who 
should say, And if you will not have me, choose : 
he hears merry tales, and smiles not : I fear, he 
will prove the weeping philosopher when he 
grows old, being so full of unmannerly sadness 
in his youth. I had rather be married to a 
death's head with a bone in his mouth, than to 
either of these. God defend me from these two ! 

Ner. How say you by the French lord, 
Monsieur Le Bon ? 

Por. G-od made him, and therefore let him 
pass for a man. In truth, I know it is a sin to 
be a mocker; But, he! why, he hath a horse 
better than the Neapolitan's ; a better bad habit 
of frowning than the count Palatine : he is every 
man in no man: if a throstle sing, he falls 
straight a capering ; he will fence with his own 
shadow : if I should marry him, I should marry 
twenty husbands: If he would despise me, I 
would forgive him ; for if he love me to madness, 
I shall never requite him. 

Ner. What say you then to Faulcoribridge, 
the young baron of England ? 

Por. You know, I say nothing to him ; for 
he understands not me, nor I him: he hath 
neither Latin, French, nor Italian ; and you will 
come into the court and swear, that I have a 
poor pennyworth in the English. He is a proper 
man's picture; But, alas! who can converse 
with a dumb show ? How oddly he is suited ! 
I think, he bought his doublet in Italy, his 
round hose in France, his bonnet in Germany 7 
and his behaviour every where. 



WILLIAM SKAKESPEABK 463 

Neb. "What think you of the Scottish lord, 
his neighbour ? 

Poe. That he hath a neighbourly charity in 
him ; for he borrowed a box of the ear of the 
Englishman, and swore he would pay him again, 
when he was able : I think, the Frenchman be- 
came his surety, and sealed under for another. 

Nee. How like you the young German, the 
duke of Saxony's nephew ? 

Poe. Very vilely in the morning, when he 
is sober ; and most vilely in the afternoon, when 
he is drunk : when he is best, he is a little worse 
than a man ; and when he is worst, he is little 
better than a beast : an the worst fall that ever 
fell, I hope, I shall make shift to go without 
him. 

Nee. If he should offer to choose, and choose 
the right casket, you should refuse to perform 
your father's will, if you should refuse to accept 
him. 

Poe. Therefore, for fear of the worst, I pray 
thee, set a deep glass of Rhenish wine on the 
contrary casket : for, if the devil be within, and 
that temptation without, I know he will choose 
it. I will do any thing, Nerissa, ere I will be 
married to a spunge. 

Nee. You need not fear, lady, the having 
any of these lords ; they have acquainted me with 
their determinations : which is indeed, to return 
to their home, and to trouble you with no more 
suit; unless, you may be won by some other 
sort than your father's imposition, depending on 
the caskets. 

Poe. If I live to be as old as Sibylla, I will 
die as chaste as Liana, unless I be obtained by 
the manner of my father's will : I am glad this 



464 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

parcel of wooers are so reasonable ; for there is 
not one among them but I dote on his very- 
absence, and I pray Grod grant them a fair 
departure. 

Ner. Do you not remember, lady, in your 
father's time, a Venetian, a scholar, and a soldier, 
that came hither in company of the Marquis of 
Montferrat ? 

Poe. Yes, yes, it was Bassanio ; as I think, 
so was he called. 

JSTee. True, madam ; he, of all the men that 
ever my foolish eyes looked upon, was the best 
deserving a fair lady. 

Poe. I remember him well; and I remem- 
ber him worthy of thy praise. — How now ! what 
news? 

Enter a Seevaistt. 

Seeyakt. The four strangers seek for you, 
madam, to take their leave : and there is a fore- 
runner come from a fifth, the prince of Morocco ; 
who brings word, the prince, his master, will be 
here to-night. 

Poe. If I could bid the fifth welcome with 
so good heart as I can bid the other four fare- 
well, I should be glad of his approach : if he 
have the condition of a saint, and the complexion 
of a devil, I had rather he should shrive me than 
wive me. Come, Nerissa. — Sirrah, go before.- — 
Whiles we shut the gate upon one wooer, 
another knocks at the door. 

MERCHANT OF VENICE, A. 1, S. 2. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 465 

THE LAKGENESS OF THE HEART 
OFT WINS THE DAY. 

Bastard. According to the fair play of the 

world, 

Let me have audience ; I am sent to speak : 

My holy lord of Milan, from the king 
I come, to learn how you have dealt for him ; 
And, as you answer, I do know the scope 
And warrant limited unto my tongue. 

Paisdttlph. The dauphin is too wilful opposite, 
And will not temporize with my entreaties ; 
He flatly says, he'll not lay down his arms. 

Bast. By all the blood that ever fury breath' d, 
The youth says well: — Now hear our English 

king ;> 
For thus his royalty doth speak in me. 
He is prepar'd ; and reason too, he should : 
This apish and unmannerly approach, 
This harness' d masque, and unadvised revel, 
This unhair'd sauciness, and boyish troops, 
The king doth smile at ; and is well prepar'd 
To whip this dwarfish war, these pigmy arms, 
From out the circle of his territories. 
That hand, which had the strength, even at your 

door, 
To cudgel you, and make you take the hatch ; 
To dive, like buckets, in concealed wells ; 
To crouch in litter of your stable planks ; 
To lie, like pawns, lock'd up in chests and 

trunks; 
To hug with swine ; to seek sweet safety out 
In vaults and prisons ; and to thrill, and shake, 
Even at the crying of your nation's crow, 
Thinking his voice an armed Englishman ; — 
Shall that victorious hand be feebled here, 
2h 



466 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

That in your chambers give you chastisement ? 
No : Know, the gallant monarch is in arms ; 
And like an eagle o'er his aiery towers, 
To souse annoyance that comes near his nest. — 
And you degenerate, you ingrate revolts, 
Tou bloody Neroes, ripping up the womb 
Of your dear mother England, blush for shame : 
For your own ladies, and pale-visag'd maids, 
Like Amazons, come tripping after drums ; 
Their thimbles into armed gauntlets change, 
Their neelds to lances, and their gentle hearts 
To fierce and bloody inclination. 

Lewis. There end thy brave, and turn thy 
face in peace ; 
We grant, thou canst outscold us: fare thee 

well; 
We hold our time too precious to be spent 
With such a brabbler. 

Strike up the drums ; and let the tongue of war 
Plead for our interest, and our being here. 

Bast. Indeed, your drums, being beaten, 
will cry out ; 
And so shall you, being beaten : Do but start 
An echo with the clamour of thy drum, 
And even at hand a drum is ready brac'd, 
That shall reverberate all as loud as thine ; 
Sound but another, and another shall, 
As loud as thine, rattle the welkin's ear, 
And mock the deep-mouth' d thunder: for at 

hand 
(Not trusting to this halting legate here, 
Whom he hath us'd rather for sport than need,) 
Is warlike John ; and in his forehead sits 
A bare-ribb'd death, whose office is this day 
To feast upon whole thousands of the French. 

KING JOHN, A. b, S. 2. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 467 



THE LAW BEFORE THE GOSPEL. 

Bassanio. Why dost thou whet thy knife so 

earnestly ? 
Shtlock. To cut the forfeiture from that 

bankrupt there. 
Gteatiano. Not on thy sole, but on thy soul, 
harsh Jew, 
Thou mak'st thy knife keen : but no metal can, 
No, not the hangman's axe, bear half the keen- 
ness 
Of thy sharp envy. Can no prayers pierce 
thee ? 
Shy. No, none that thou hast wit enough to 

make. 
G-ra. O, be thou damn'd, inexorable dog ! 
And for thy life let justice be accus'd. 
Thou almost mak'st me waver in my faith, 
To hold opinion with Pythagoras, 
That souls of animals infuse themselves 
Into the trunks of men : thy currish spirit 
Govern' d a wolf, who, hang'd for human slaughter, 
Even from the gallows did his fell soul fleet, 
And, whilst thou lay'st in thy unhallow'd dam, 
Infus'd itself in thee ; for thy desires 
Are wolfish, bloody, starv'd, and ravenous. 
Shy. Till thou canst rail the seal from off 
my bond, 
Thou but offend' st thy lungs to speak so loud : 
Repair thy wit, good youth ; or it will fall 
To cureless ruin. — I stand here for law. 

MERCHANT OF VENICE, A. 4, S. 1. 



468 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

THE LAY AND SPIRITUAL PEERS' 

ARGUMENTS RESPECTING THEIR 

RELATIVE DUTIES. 

Westmoreland. Then, my lord, 

Unto your grace do I in chief address 
The substance of my speech. If that rebellion 
Came like itself, in base and abject routs, 
Led on by bloody youth, guarded with rage, 
And countenanc'd by boys, and beggary ; 
I say, if damn'd commotion so appear' d, 
In his true, native, and most proper shape, 
Tou, reverend father, and these noble lords, 
Had not been here, to dress the ugly form 
Of base and bloody insurrection 
"With your fair honours . Tou, lord archbishop, — 
"Whose see is by a civil peace maintain' d ; 
"Whose beard the silver hand of peace hath 

touch' d; 
"Whose learning and good letters peace hath 

tutor' d ; 
"Whose white investments figure innocence, 
The dove and very blessed spirit of peace, — 
Wherefore do you so ill translate yourself, 
Out of the speech of peace, that bears such 

grace, 
Into the harsh and boist'rous tongue of war ? 
Turning your books to graves, your ink to 

blood, 
Tour pens to lances ; and your tongue divine 
To a loud trumpet, and a point of war ? 

Archbishop. Wherefore do I this ? — so the 

question stands. 
Briefly to this end : — We are all diseas'd ; 
And, with our surfeiting, and wanton hours, 
Have brought ourselves into a burning fever, 



WILLIAM 83AKESPHJHK 469 

And we must bleed for it : of which disease 

Our late king, Richard, being infected, died. 

But, my most noble lord of Westmoreland, 

I take not on me here as a physician ; 

Nor do I, as an enemy to peace, 

Troop in the throngs of military men : 

But, rather, show a while like fearful war, 

To diet rank minds, sick of happiness ; 

And purge the obstructions, which begin to stop 

Our very veins of life. Hear me more plainly. 

I have in equal balance justly weigh' d 

What wrongs our arms may do, what wrongs 

we suffer, 
And find our griefs heavier than our offences. 
"We see which way the stream of time doth run, 
And are enforc'd from our most quiet sphere 
By the rough torrent of occasion : 
Aid have the summary of all our griefs, 
When time shall serve, to show in articles ; 
Which, long ere this, we offer' d to the king, 
And might by no suit gain our audience : 
When we are wrong' d, and would unfold our 

griefs, 
We are denied access unto his person 
Even by those men that most have done us 

wrong. 
The dangers of the days but newly gone, 
(Whose memory is written on the earth 
With yet appearing blood,) and the examples 
Of every minute's instance, (present now,) 
Have put us in these ill-beseeming arms : 
Not to break peace, or any branch of it ; 
But to establish here a peace indeed, 
Concurring both in name and quality. 

West. When ever yet was your appeal 

denied ? 



47o THE PHILOSOPHY OP 

"Wherein have you been galled by the king ? 
"What peer hath been suborn' d to grate on you? 
That you should seal this lawless bloody book 
Of forg'd rebellion with a seal divine, 
And consecrate commotion's bitter edge ? 

Abch. My brother general, the common- 
wealth, 
To brother born an household cruelty, 
I make my quarrel in particular. 

"West. There is no need of any such redress; 
Or, if there were, it not belongs to you. 

K. HENRY IV., PART II., A. 4, S. 1. 



THE LEVER OF FUTURE PROGRESS. 

Lorenzo. How sweet the moon-light sleeps 
upon this bank ! 
Here will we sit, and let the sounds of musick 
Creep in our ears ; soft stillness, and the night, 
Become the touches of sweet harmony. 
Sit, Jessica : Look how the floor of heaven 
Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold ; 
There's not the smallest orb, which thou behold'st, 
But in his motion like an angel sings, 
Still quiring to the young-ey'd cherubins : 
Such harmony is in immortal souls ; 
But, whilst this muddy vesture of decay 
Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it. — - 

Enter Musicians. 

Come, ho, and woke Diana with a hymn; 
"With sweetest touches pierce your mistress' ear, 
And draw her home with musick. 

Jessica. I am never merry, when I hear 
sweet musick. [Musick. 

Lob. The reason is, your spirits are attentive : 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 47 1 

For do but note a wild and wanton herd, 
Or race of youthful and unhandled colts, 
Fetching mad bounds, bellowing, and neighing 

loud, 
Which is the hot condition of their blood ; 
If they but hear perchance a trumpet sound, 
Or any air of musick touch their ears, 
Tou shall perceive them make a mutual stand, 
Their savage eyes turn'd to a modest gaze, 
By the sweet power of musick : Therefore, the 

poet 
Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones, and 

floods ; 
Since nought so stockish, hard, and full of rage, 
But musick for the time doth change his nature: 
The man that hath no musick in himself, 
Nor is not mov'd with concord of sweet sounds, 
Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils ; 
The motions of his spirit are dull as night, 
And his affections dark as Erebus : 
Let no such man be trusted. 

MERCHANT OF VENICE, A. 5, S. 1. 



THE LOVE CHABM. 

I kkow a bank whereon the wild thyme blows, 
Where ox-lips and the nodding violet grows ; 
Quite over-canopied with lush woodbine, 
With sweet musk-roses, and with eglantine : 
There sleeps Titania, some time of the night, 
LulTd in these flowers with dances and delight ; 
And there the snake throws her enamell'd skin, 
Weed wide enough to wrap a fairy in : 
And with the juice of this I'll streak her eyes, 
And make her full of hateful fantasies. 



472 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Take thou some of it, and seek through this 

grove : 
A sweet Athenian lady is in love 
"With a disdainful youth : anoint his eyes ; 
But do it, when the next thing he espies 
May be the lady : Thou shalt know the man 
By the Athenian garments he hath on. 
Effect it with some care ; that he may prove 
More fond on her, than she upon her love : 
And look thou meet me ere the first cock crow. 

MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM, A. 2, S. 2. 



THE MEDIEVAL WAKRIOR 

I thank him, that he cuts me from my tale, 
For I profess not talking ; only this — 
Let each man do his best : and here draw I 
A sword, whose temper I intend to stain 
"With the best blood that I can meet withal 
In the adventure of this perilous day. 
Now, — Esperance ! — Percy ! — and set on. — - 
Sound all the lofty instruments of war, 
And by that musick let us all embrace : 
Eor, heaven to earth, some of us never shall 
A second time do such a courtesy. 

K. HENRY IV., PART I., A. 5, S. 2. 



THE MIND REQUIRES THE GREAT 

ARCHITECT TO SET THE HEART 

IN ORDER. 

Why, 'tis no matter, man : if they did hear, 
They would not mark me ; or, if they did mark, 
All bootless to them, they'd not pity me. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 473 

Therefore I tell my sorrows to the stones ; 
"Who, though they cannot answer my distress, 
Yet in some sort they're better than the tribunes, 
For that they will not intercept my tale : 
When I do weep, they humbly at my feet 
Receive my tears, and seem to weep with me ; 
And, were they but attired in grave weeds, 
Borne could afford no tribune like to these. 
A stone is soft as wax, tribunes more hard than 

stones : 
A stone is silent, and offendeth not ; 
And tribunes with their tongues doom men to 

death. 

TITUS ANDKONICUS, A. 3, S. 1. 



THE MISERY OF SUSPICION. 

Let none disturb us: Why this charge of 

thoughts ? 
The sad companion, dull-ey'd melancholy, 
By me so us'd a guest is, not an hour, 
In the day's glorious walk, or peaceful night, 
(The tomb where grief should sleep,) can breed 

me quiet ! 
Here pleasures court mine eyes, and mine eyes 

shun them, 
And danger, which I feared, is at Antioch, 
Whose arm seems far too short to hit me here : 
Yet neither pleasure's art can joy my spirits, 
ISTor yet the other's distance comfort me. 
Then it is thus : the passions of the mind, 
That have their first conception by mis -dread, 
Have after-nourishment and life by care ; 
And what was first but fear what might be done, 
Grows elder now, and cares it be not done. 



474 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

And so with me ; — the great Antiochus 
('Gainst whom I am too little to contend, 
Since he's so great, can make his will his act,) 
"Will think me speaking, though I swear to 

silence ; 
Nor boots it me to say, I honour him, 
If he suspect I may dishonour him : 
And what may make him blush in being known, 
He'll stop the course by which it might be known. 

PERICLES, A. 1, S. 2. 



THE MORALITY OF TIME. 

O gentlemeis", the time of life is short ; 

To spend that shortness basely, were too long, 

If life did ride upon a dial's point, 

Still ending at the arrival of an hour. 

An if we live, we live to tread on kings ; 

If die, brave death, when princes die with us ! 

Now for our conscience, — the arms are fair, 

When the intent of bearing them is just. 

K. HENRY IV., PART I., A. 5, S. 2. 



THE MOTHER CONQUERS— THE 

HERO DIES. 

mother, mother ! 
What have you done ? Behold, the heavens do 

ope, 
The gods look down, and this unnatural scene 
They laugh at. O my mother, mother ! ! 
Tou have won a happy victory to Borne : 
But, for your son, — believe it, 0, believe it, 
Most dangerously you have with him prevail' d, 
If not most mortal to him. But, let it come ; — 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 475, 

Aufidius, though I cannot make true wars, 
I'll frame convenient peace. Now, good Aujidius, 
Were you in my stead, say, would you have heard 
A mother less ? or granted less, Aufidius ? 
But we will drink together ; and you shall bear 
A better witness back than words, which we, 
On like conditions, will have counter-seal' d. 
Come, enter with us. Ladies, you deserve 
To have a temple built you : all the swords 
In Italy, and her confederate arms, 
Could not have made this peace. 

CORIOLANUS, A. 5, S. 3. 



THE MOTHER SAVES HER BOY, 

Duchess. O king, believe not this hard- 
hearted man ; 
Love, loving not itself, none other can. 

Yoke:. Thou frantick woman, what dost 
thou make here ? 
Shall thy old dugs once more a traitor rear ? 
Ditch. Sweet York, be patient: Hear me, 
gentle liege. [Kneels. 

BoLiNaBBOKE. Rise up, good aunt. 
Duch. Not yet, I thee beseech : 

For ever will I kneel upon my knees, 
And never see day that the happy sees, 
Till thou give joy ; until thou bid me joy, 
By pardoning Rutland, my transgressing boy. 
Aumerle. Unto my mother's prayers I bend 
my knee. [Kneels. 

Yobk. Against them both, my true joints 
bended be. [Kneels. 

Ill may'st thou thrive, if thou grant any grace ! 
Dtjch. Pleads he in earnest ? look upon his 
face; 



476 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

His eyes do drop no tears, his prayers are in 

jest; 
His words come from his mouth, ours from our 

breast : 
He prays but faintly, and would be denied ; 
"We pray with heart, and soul, and all beside : 
His weary joints would gladly rise, I know ; 
Our knees shall kneel till to the ground they 

grow: 
His prayers are full of false hypocrisy ; 
Ours, of true zeal and deep integrity. 
Our prayers do out-pray his; then let them 

have 
That mercy, which true prayers ought to have. 
Boling. Good aunt, stand up. 
Duch. Nay, do not say — stand up ; 

But pardon, first ; and afterwards, stand up. 
An if I were thy nurse, thy tongue to teach, 
Pardon — should be the first word of thy speech. 
I never long'd to hear a word till now ; 
Say — pardon, king ; let pity teach thee how : 
The word is short, but not so short as sweet ; 
No word like pardon, for kings' mouths so meet. 
York. Speak it in French, king ; say, par- 

donnez moy, 
Duch. Dost thou teach pardon pardon to 

destroy ? 
Ah, my sour husband, my hard-hearted lord, 
That set'st the word itself against the word ! — 
Speak, pardon, as 'tis current in our land ; 
The chopping French we do not understand. 
Thine eye begins to speak, set thy tongue there : 
Or, in thy piteous heart plant thou thine ear ; 
That, hearing how our plaints and prayers do 

pierce, 
Pity may move thee, pardon to rehearse. 



WILLIAM SHAXUSPJEASU. 477 

Boling. Good aunt, stand up. 

Duch. I do not sue to stand, 

Pardon is all the suit I have in hand. 

Boling. I pardon him, as God shall pardon 
me. 

Duch. O happy vantage of a kneeling knee ! 
Yet am I sick for fear : speak it again ; 
Twice saying pardon, doth not pardon twain, 
But makes one pardon strong. 

Bolifg. With all my heart 

I pardon him. 

Duch. A god on earth thou art. 

K. RICHARD II., A. 5, S. 3. 



THE MOTHER'S AGONY. 

Q. Margaret. 0, Ned! sweet Ned! speak 
to thy mother, boy ! 
Canst thou not speak ? — traitors ! mur- 
derers ! — 
They, that stabb'd Ccesar, shed no blood at all, 
Did not offend, nor were not worthy blame, 
If this foul deed were by, to equal it. 
He was a man : this, in respect, a child ; 
And men ne'er spend their fury on a child. 
What's worse than murderer, that I may name 

it? 
No, no ; my heart will burst, an if I speak : — 
And I will speak, that so my heart may burst. — 
Butchers and villains, bloody cannibals ! 
How sweet a plant have you untimely cropp'd ? 
You have no children, butchers ! if you had, 
The thought of them would have stirr'd up 

remorse : 
But, if you ever chance to have a child, 



478 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Look in his youth to have him so cut off, 
As, deathsmen ! you have rid this sweet young 
prince ! 
K. Edwaed. Away with her ; go, bear her 

hence perforce. 
Q. Mae. Nay, never bear me hence, despatch 
me here ; 
Here sheath thy sword, I'll pardon thee my 

death : 
What! wilt thou not? — then, Clarence, do it 
thou. 
Claeekce. By heaven, I will not do thee so 

much ease. 
Q. Mae. G-ood Clarence, do ; sweet Clarence, 

do thou do it. 
Clae. Didst thou not hear me swear, I 

would not do it ? 
Q. Mae. Ay, but thou usest to forswear 
thyself: 
'Twas sin before, but now 'tis charity. 
What! wilt thou not? where is that devil's 

butcher, 
Hard-favour'd Richard? BicJiard, where art 

thou? 
Thou art not here : Murder is thy alms-deed ; 
Petitioners for blood thou ne'er put'st back. 

K. HENRI VI., PART III., A. 5, S. 5. 



THE MOTHER'S BLESSING AND 
ADVICE. 

Be thou blest, Bertram ! and succeed thy father 
In manners, as in shape ! thy blood, and virtue , 
Contend for empire in thee ; and thy goodness 
Share with thy birth-right ! Love all, trust a few, 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 479 

Do wrong to none : be able for thine enemy 
Bather in power than use ; and keep thy friend 
Under thy own life's key : be check' d for silence, 
But never tax'd for speech. What heaven more 

will, 
That thee may furnish, and my prayers pluck 

down, 
Pall on thy head ! Farewell. 

all's well that ends well, a. 1, s. 1. 



THE MOTHER'S MALEDICTION. 

Either thou wilt die, by God's just ordinance, 
Ere from this war thou turn a conqueror ; 
Or, I with grief and extreme age shall perish, 
And never look upon thy face again. 
Therefore, take with thee my most heavy curse ; 
"Which, in the day of battle, tire thee more, 
Than all the complete armour that thou wears' t ! 
My prayers on the adverse party fight : 
And there the little souls of JEdivard's children 
"Whisper the spirits of thine enemies, 
And promise them success and victory. 
Bloody thou art, bloody will be thy end ; 
Shame serves thy life, and doth thy death attend. 

K. RICHARD III., A. 4, S. 4. 



THE MOTHER'S PLEADING AGAINST 
THE FATHER'S REASONING. 

Why, York, what wilt thou do ? 
Wilt thou not hide the trespass of thine own ? 
Have we more sons ? or are we like to have ? 
Is not my teeming date drunk up with time ? 
And wilt thou pluck my fair son from mine age, 



480 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

And rob me of a happy mother's name ? 
Is he not like thee ? is he not thine own ? 

Hadst thou groan' d for him, 
As I have done, thou'dst be more pitiful. 
But now I know thy mind ; thou dost suspect, 
That I have been disloyal to thy bed, 
And that he is a bastard, not thy son : 
Sweet York, sweet husband, be not of that 

mind: 
He is as like thee as a man may be, 
Not like to me, or any of my kin, 
And yet I love him. 

K. RICHARD II., A. 5, S. 2. 



THE MUKDEB, OF THE INNOCENT. 

Ktitlakd. Ah, whither shall I fly to 'scape 
their hands ? 
Ah, tutor ! look, where bloody Clifford comes ! 

Enter Clifford and Soldiers. 

Clifford. Chaplain, away! thy priesthood 
saves thy life. 
As for the brat of this accursed duke, 
"Whose father slew my father, — he shall die. 
Tutor. And I, my lord, will bear him com- 
pany. 
Clif. Soldiers, away with him. 
Tut. Ah, Clifford! murder not this innocent 
child, 
Lest thou be hated both of G-od and man. 

[Exit, forced off by Soldiers. 
Clif. How now ! is he dead already ? Or, 
is it fear, 
That makes him close his eyes ? — I'll open them. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 48 1 

Rut. So looks the pent up lion o'er the 
wretch 
That trembles under his devouring paws : 
And so he walks, insulting o'er his prey ; 
And so he conies, to rend his limbs asunder. — 
Ah, gentle Clifford, kill me with thy sword, 
And not with such a cruel threat'ning look. 
Sweet Clifford, hear me speak before I die ; — 
I am too mean a subject for thy wrath, 
Be thou reveng'd on men, and let me live. 
Clip. In vain thou speak' st, poor boy; my 
father's blood 
Hath stopp'd the passage where thy words 
should enter. 
Rut. Then let my father's blood open it 
again; 
He is a man, and, Clifford, cope with him. 
Clip. Had I thy brethren here, their lives, 
and thine, 
"Were not revenge sufficient for me ; 
No, if I digg'd up thy forefathers' graves, 
And hung their rotten coffins up in chains, 
It could not slake mine ire, nor ease my heart. 
The sight of any of the house of York 
Is as a fury to torment my soul ; 
And till I root out their accursed line, 
And leave not one alive, I live in hell. 

Therefore [Lifting Ms hand. 

Rut. 0, let me pray before I take my 
death : — 
To thee I pray ; Sweet Clifford, pity me ! 

Clip. Such pity as my rapier's point affords. 
Rut. I never did thee harm ; Why wilt thou 

slay me ? 
Clie. Thy father hath. 
Rut. But 'twas ere I was born. 

2i 



482 THF PHILOSOPHY OF 

Thou hast one son, for his sake pity me ; 

Lest in revenge thereof, — sith God is just, — 

He be as miserably slain as I. 

Ah, let me live in prison all my days ; 

And when I give occasion of offence, 

Then let me die, for now thou hast no cause. 

Clif. No cause ? 
Thy father slew my father ; therefore, die. 

[Clifford stabs him. 

Rut. Dii faciant, laudis summa sit ista tucel 

[Dies. 

Clif. Plcmtagenet ! I come, Plantagenetl 
And this thy son's blood, cleaving to my blade, 
Shall rust upon my weapon, till thy blood, 
Congeal' d with this, do make me wipe off both. 

K. HENRY VI., PART III., A. 1, S. 3. 



THE MYSTEKY OF DEATH. 

We must lay his head to the east : 
My father hath a reason for't. 

SONGL 

Fear no more the heat o^ihe sun, 
Nor the furious winters rages ; 

Thou thy worldly task hast done, 

Home art gone, and to* en thy wages : 

Golden lads and girls all must, 

As chimneysweepers, come to dust. 

Fear no more the frown oHhe great, 
Thou art past the tyrant's stroke ; 

Care no more to clothe, and eat ; 
To thee the reed is as the oak : 

The sceptre, learning, physick, must 

All follow this, and come to dust. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 483 

Fear no more the lightening -flash, 

Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone : 
Fear not slander, censure rash ; 

Thou hast finish? d joy and moan : 
All lovers young, all lovers must 
Consign to thee, and come to dust. 

CYMBELINE, A. 4, S. 2. 



MARRIAGE REPROACHES. 

At, ay, Antipholus, look strange, and frown ; 
Some other mistress hath thy sweet aspects, 
I am not Adriana, nor thy wife. 
The time was once, when thou unurg'st would' st 

vow 
That never words were musick to thine ear, 
That never object pleasing in thine eye, 
That never touch well-welcome to thy hand, 
That never meat sweet-savour' d in thy taste, 
Unless I spake, look'd, touch' d, or carv'd to 

thee. 
How comes it now, my husband, oh, how comes 

it; 
That thou art then estranged from thyself ? 
Thyself I call it, being strange to me, 
That undividable, incorporate, 
Am better than thy dear self's better part. 
Ah, do not tear away thyself from me ; 
For know, my love, as easy may'st thou fall 
A drop of water in the breaking gulph, 
And take unmingled thence that drop again, 
"Without addition, or diminishing, 
As take from me thyself, and not me too. 
How dearly would it touch thee to the quick, 



484 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Should' st thou but hear I were licentious ! 

And that this body, consecrate to thee, 

By ruffian lust should be contaminate ! 

Would' st thou not spit at me, and spurn at me, 

And hurl the name of husband in my face, 

And tear the stain' d skin off my harlot brow, 

And from my false hand cut the wedding ring, 

And break it with a deep divorcing vow ? 

I know thou canst ; and therefore, see, thou do it. 

I am possess'd with an adulterate blot ; 

My blood is mingled with the crime of lust : 

For, if we two be one, and thou play false, 

I do digest the poison of thy flesh, 

Being strumpeted by thy contagion. 

Keep then fair league and truce with thy true 

bed; 
I live unstain'd, thou, undishonoured. 

COMEDY OF ERRORS, A. 2, S. 2. 



MYSTERY OF SYMPATHIES 
AND ANTIPATHIES. 

Viola. I see you what you are : you are too 
proud ; 
But, if you were the devil, you are fair. 
My lord and master loves you ; O, such love 
Could be but recompens'd, though you were 

crown' d 
The nonpareil of beauty ! 

Olivia. How does he love me ? 

Vio. "With adorations, with fertile tears, 
With groans that thunder love, with sighs of 
fire. 
Olt. Your lord does know my mind, I can- 
not love him : 



WILLIAM SHAKLJSPLJABU. 485 

Yet I suppose him virtuous, know him noble, 
Of great estate, of fresh and stainless youth ; 
In voices well divulg'd, free, learn' d, and valiant, 
And, in dimension, and the shape of nature, 
A gracious person : but yet I cannot love him ; 
He might have took his answer long ago. 

Vio. If I did love you in my master's flame, 
With such a suffering, such a deadly life, 
In your denial I would find no sense, 
I would not understand it. 

Oli. Why, what would you ? 

Vio. Make me a willow cabin at your gate, 
And call upon my soul within the house ; 
"Write loyal cantons of contemned love, 
And sing them loud even in the dead of night ; 
Holla your name to the reverberate hills, 
And make the babbling gossip of the air 
Cry out, Olivia ! O, you should not rest 
Between the elements of air and earth, 
But you should pity me. 

TWELFTH NIGHT, A. 1, S. 5. 



THE NATURE IS SURE TO SHOW 
ITSELF. 

thou goddess, 
Thou divine Nature, how thyself thou blazon' st 
In these two princely boys ! They are as gentle 
As zephyrs, blowing below the violet, 
Not wagging his sweet head ; and yet as rough, 
Their royal blood enchaf 'd, as the rud'st wind, 
That by the top doth take the mountain pine, 
And make him stoop to the vale. 'Tis won- 
derful 
That an invisible instinct should frame them 



486 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

To royalty unlearn' d ; honour untaught ; 
Civility not seen from other : valour, 
That wildly grows in them, but yields a crop 
As if it had been sow'd ! 

CYMBELINE, A. 4, S. 2. 



THE NECESSITY OF RESPONSIBLE 
POWER FOR HIGH PURPOSES. 

Butts. There, my lord : 

The high promotion of his grace of Canterbury ; 
"Who holds his state at door, 'mongst pur- 
suivants, 
Pages and foot-boys. 

K. Henry. Ha! 'Tis he, indeed: 

Is this the honour they do one another ? 
'Tis well there's one above them yet. I had 

thought, 
They had parted so much honesty among them, 
(At least, good manners,) as not thus to suffer 
A man of his place, and so near our favour, 
To dance attendance on their lordships' pleasures, 
And at the door too, like a post with packets. 
By holy Mary, Butts, there's knavery: 
Let them alone, and draw the curtain close ; 
We shall hear more anon. 

K. HENRY VIII., A. 5, S. 2. 



THE NIGHT BEFORE THE BATTLE. 

Now entertain conjecture of a time, 
When creeping murmur, and the poring dark, 
Fills the wide vessel of the universe. 
From camp to camp, through the foul womb of 

night, 
The hum of either army stilly sounds, 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 487 

That the fix'd sentinels almost receive 
The secret whispers of each other's watch : 
Fire answers fire : and through their paley flames 
Each battle sees the other's umber' d face : 
Steed threatens steed, in high and boastful neighs, 
Piercing the night's dull ear; and from the 

tents, 
The armourers, accomplishing the knights, 
With busy hammers closing rivets up, 
Give dreadful note of preparation. 
The country cocks do crow, the clocks do toll, 
And the third hour of drowsy morning name. 
Proud of their numbers, and secure in soul, 
The confident and over-lusty French 
Do the low-rated English play at dice ; 
And chide the cripple tardy-gaited night, 
"Who, like a foul and ugly witch, doth limp 
So tediously away. The poor condemned English, 
Like sacrifices, by their watchful fires 
Sit patiently, and inly ruminate 
The morning's danger ; and their gesture sad, 
Investing lank-lean cheeks, and war-worn coats, 
Presenteth them unto the gazing moon 
So many horrid ghosts. O, now, who will be- 
hold 
The royal captain of this ruined band, 
"Walking from watch to watch, from tent to 

tent, 
Let him cry — Praise and glory on his head ! 
For forth he goes, and visits all his host ; 
Bids them good-morrow, with a modest smile : 
And calls them — brothers, friends, and country- 
men. 
Upon his royal face there is no note, 
How dread an army hath surrounded him 5 
Nor doth he dedicate one jot of colour 



488 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Unto the weary and all- watched night : 
But freshly looks, and overbears attaint, 
"With cheerful semblance, and sweet majesty ; 
That every wretch, pining and pale before, 
Beholding him, plucks comfort from his looks : 
A largess universal, like the sun, 
His liberal eye doth give to every one, 
Thawing cold fear. 

K. HENRY V., A. 4, ChorUS. 



THE NIGHTINGALE LAMENTING 
THE LOSS OF ITS MATE. 

"What was he like ? 
I have forgot him : my imagination 
Carries no favour in it, but Bertram* s. 
I am undone ; there is no living, none, 
If Bertram be away. It were all one, 
That I should love a bright particular star, 
And think to wed it, he is so above me : 
In his bright radiance and collateral light 
Must I be comforted, not in his sphere. 
The ambition in my love thus plagues itself : 
The hind, that would be mated by the lion, 
Must die for love. 'Twas pretty, though j 

plague, 
To see him every hour ; to sit and draw 
His arched brows, his hawking eye, his curls, 
In our heart's table; heart, too capable 
Of every line and trick of his sweet favour : 
But now he's gone, and my idolatrous fancy 
Must sanctify his relicks. 

all's well that ends well, a. 1, s. 1. 



WILLIAM SHAKESBEABE. 489 

THE NOBLE MIND DEFILED 
BY CONTACT WITH ITS INFERIOR 

Well, Brutus, thou art noble ; yet, I see, 
Thy honourable metal may be wrought 
From that it is dispos'd : Therefore 'tis meet 
That noble minds keep ever with their likes : 
For who so firm, that cannot be seduc'd P 
Ccesar doth bear me hard : But he loves Brutus : 
If I were Brutus now, and he were Cassius, 
He should not humour me. I will this night, 
In several hands, in at his windows throw, 
As if they came from several citizens, 
Writings, all tending to the great opinion 
That Borne holds of his name ; wherein obscurely 
Ccesar' s ambition shall be glanced at : 
And, after this, let Ccesar seat him sure ; 
For we will shake him, or worse days endure. 

JULIUS CESAR, A. 1, S. 2. 



THE OATH-BREAKER 

AND BETRAYERS PUNISHMENT. 

Hastings and Edward's children, Bivers, Grey, 
Holy king Henry, and thy fair son Edward, 
Vauglian, and all that have miscarried 
By underhand corrupted foul injustice : 
If that your moody discontented souls 
Do through the clouds behold this present hour, 
Even for revenge mock my destruction ! — 
This is All-Souls' day, fellows, is it not ? 
Why, then All-Souls' day is my body's dooms- 
day. 
This is the day, which, in king Edivard's time, 
I wish'd might fall on me, when I was found 



490 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

False to his children, or his wife's allies : 
This is the day, wherein I wish'd to fall 
By the false faith of him whom most I trusted : 
This, this All-Souls' day, to my fearful soul, 
Is the determin'd respite of my wrongs. 
That high All-seer which I dallied with, 
Hath turned my feigned prayer on my head, 
And given in earnest what I begg'd in jest. 
Thus doth he force the swords of wicked men 
To turn their own points on their masters' 

bosoms : 
Thus Margaret's curse falls heavy on my neck, — 
When he, quoth she, shall split thy heart with 

sorrow, 
Bemember Margaret was a prophetess. — 
Come, sirs, convey me to the block of shame ; 
Wrong hath but wrong, and blame the due of 

blame. 

K. RICHARD III., A. 5, S. 1. 



THE DIFFICULTIES OF HUNGER 

They are dissolved : Hang 'em ! 
They said, they were an-hungry; sigh'd forth 

proverbs ; — 
That, hunger broke stone walls ; that, dogs must 

eat; 
That, meat was made for mouths ; that, the gods 

sent not 
Corn for the rich men only : — With these shreds 
They vented their complainings; which being 

answer' d, 
And a petition granted them, they threw their 

caps 



WILLIAM SHAKESPFABF. 491 

As they would hang them on the horns o'the 

moon, 
Shouting their emulation. 

CORIOLANUS, A. 1, S. 1. 



THE OLD SINNER'S APOLOGY. 

But to say, I know more harm in him than 
in myself, were to say more than I know. That 
he is old, (the more the pity,) his white hairs do 
witness it : but that he is (saving your reverence,) 
a whoremaster, that I utterly deny. If sack and 
sugar be a fault, God help the wicked ! If to be 
old and merry be a sin, then many an old host 
that I know, is damned: if to be fat to be hated, 
then Pharaoh's lean kine are to be loved. No, 
my good lord ; banish Peto, banish Bardolph, 
banish Poins : but for sweet Jack Falstaff, kind 
Jack Falstqffi, true Jack Falstqff, valiant Jack 
Falstaff, and therefore more valiant, being as he 
is, old Jack Falstqffi, banish not him thy Harry's 
company, banish not him thy Harry's company; 
banish plump Jack, and banish all the world. 

K. HENRY IV., PART I., A. 2, S. 4. 



THE MISFORTUNE OF OVER 

GENEROSITY. 

Timok. Come, sermon me no further : 

No villainous bounty yet hath pass'd my heart ; 
Unwisely, not ignobly, have I given. 
"Why dost thou weep ? Canst thou the conscience 

lack, 
To think I shall lack friends? Secure thy heart ; 
If I would broach the vessels of my love, 



492 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

And try the argument of hearts by borrowing, 
Men, and men's fortunes, could I frankly use, 
As I can bid thee speak. 

Flayius. Assurance bless your thoughts ! 

Tim. And, in some sort, these wants of mine 
are crown' d, 
That I account them blessings ; for by these 
Shall I try friends : Tou shall perceive, how you 
Mistake my fortunes ; I am wealthy in my friends. 
"Within there, ho ! 

Enter Flamiketjs, Servilitjs, and other 
Servants. 

Seryakts. My lord, my lord, 

Tim. I will despatch you severally. — Tou, to 
lord Lucius, — 
To lord Lucullus you ; I hunted with his 
Honour to-day ; — You, to Sempronius ; 
Commend me to their loves ; and, I am proud, 

say, 
That my occasions have found time to use them 
Toward a supply of money : let the request 
Be fifty talents. 

Elaminitjs. As you have said, my lord. 

Play. Lord Lucius, and lord Lucullus ? 

humph ! [Aside. 

Tim. G-o you, sir, [to another Serv.] to the 

senators, 

(Of whom, even to the state's best health, I 

have 
Deserv'd this hearing,) bid 'em send o'the 

instant 
A thousand talents to me. 

TIMON OF ATHENS, A. 2, S. 2. 



WILLIAM SKAKESPEARE. 493 

THE MISFORTUNE OF OVER 
GENEROSITY. 

Flayitts. I have heen bold, 

(For that I knew it the most general way,) 
To them to use your signet, and your name ; 
But they do shake their heads, and I am here 
No richer in return. 

Timon. Is't true ? can it be ? 

Flay. They answer, in a joint and corporate 
voice, 
That now they are at fall, want treasure, cannot 
Do what they would; are sorry — you are honour- 
able, — 
But yet they could have wish'd — they know 

not — but 
Something hath been amiss — a noble nature 
May catch a wrench — would all were well — 'tis 

pity;— 
And so, intending other serious matters, 
After distasteful looks, and these hard fractions, 
"With certain half-caps, and cold-moving nods, 
They froze me into silence. 

T1MON OF ATHENS, A. 2, S. 2. 



THE PANIC-STRICKEN CREDITOR. 

Get on your cloak, and haste you to lord 

Timon ; 
Importune him for my monies ; be not ceas'd 
"With slight denial; nor then silenc'd, when — 
Commend me to your master — and the cap 
Plays in the right hand thus: — but tell him, 

sirrah, 
My uses cry to me, I must serve my turn 



49+ THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Out of mine own ; his days and times are past, 
And my reliances on his fraeted dates 
Have smit my credit : I love, and honour him ; 
But must not break my back, to heal his finger ; 
Immediate are my needs ; and my relief 
Must not be toss'd and turn'd to me in words, 
But find supply immediate. Get you gone : 
Put on a most importunate aspect, 
A visage of demand ; for, I do fear, 
"When every feather sticks in his own wing, 
Lord Timon will be left a naked gull, 
Which flashes now a phoenix. Get you gone. 

TIMON OF ATHENS, A. 2, S. 1. 



THE PEER THE BEST JUDGE OF 

THE PRINCE'S METAL. 

K. He^ry. Most subject is the fattest soil 
to weeds ; 
And he, the noble image of my youth, 
Is overspread with them : Therefore my grief 
Stretches itself beyond the hour of death ; 
The blood weeps from my heart, when I do 

shape, 
In forms imaginary, the unguided days, 
And rotten times, that you shall look upon 
"When I am sleeping with my ancestors. 
Por when his headstrong riot hath no curb, 
"When rage and hot blood are his counsellors, 
"When means and lavish manners meet together, 
O, with what wings shall his affections fly 
Towards fronting peril and oppos'd decay ! 
Warwick. My gracious lord, you look be- 
yond him quite : 
The prince but studies his companions, 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 495 

Like a strange tongue : wherein, to gain the 

language, 
'Tis needful, that the most immodest word 
Be look'd upon, and learn'd: which once attain' d, 
Tour highness knows, comes to no further use, 
But to be known, and hated. So, like gross 

terms, 
The prince will, in the perfectness of time, 
Cast off his followers : and their memory- 
Shall as a pattern or a measure live, 
By which his grace must mete the lives of 

others ; 
Turning past evils to advantages. 

K. Heist. 'Tis seldom, when the bee doth 

leave her comb 
In the dead carrion. 

X. HENRY IV., PART II., A. 4, S. 4. 



THE PERPLEXITY OF GUILT. 

This deed unshapes me quite, makes me un- 

pregnant, 
And dull to all proceedings. A deflower'd 

maid! 
And by an eminent body, that enforc'd 
The law against it ! — But that her tender shame 
"Will not proclaim against her maiden loss, 
How might she tongue me ! Yet reason dares 

her ?— No : 
Por my authority bears a credent bulk, 
That no particular scandal once can touch, 
But it confounds the breather. He should have 

liv'd, 
Save that his riotous youth, with dangerous 

sense, 
Might, in the times to come, have ta'en revenge, 



496 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

By so receiving a dishonour' d life, 

With ransome of such shame. 'Would yet he 

had liv'd ! 
Alack, when once our grace we have forgot, 
Nothing goes right; we would, and we would 

not. 

MEASURE FOR MEASURE, A. 4, S. 4. 



THE PHILOSOPHY OF ROYAL HAP- 
PINESS DISCUSSED BY THE KING 
AND HIS SON. 

K. Henry. Lords, give us leave ; the Prince 

of Wales and I 
Must have some conference : But be near at 

hand, 
For we shall presently have need of you. — 

[Exeunt Lords. 
I know not whether Grod will have it so, 
For some displeasing service I have done, 
That, in his secret doom, out of my blood 
He'll breed revengement and a scourge for me ; 
But thou dost, in thy passages of life, 
Make me believe, — that thou art only mark'd 
For the hot vengeance and the rod of heaven, 
To punish my mis-treadings. Tell me else, 
Could such inordinate, and low desires, 
Such poor, such bare, such lewd, such mean 

attempts, 
Such barren pleasures, rude society, 
As thou art match' d withal, and grafted to, 
Accompany the greatness of thy blood, 
And hold their level with thy princely heart ? 
P. Henry. So please your majesty, I would, 

I could 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 497 

Quit all offences with as clear excuse, 

As well as, I am doubtless, I can purge 

Myself of many I am charg'd withal : 

Tet such extenuation let me beg, 

As, in reproof of many tales devis'd, — 

"Which oft the ear of greatness needs must 

hear, — 
By smiling pick-thanks and base newsmongers, 
I may, for some things true, wherein my youth 
Hath faulty wander' d and irregular, 
Find pardon on my true submission. 

K. He^. God pardon thee ! — yet let me 

wonder, Harry, 
At thy affections, which do hold a wing 
Quite from the flight of all thy ancestors. 
Thy place in council thou hast rudely lost, 
"Which by thy younger brother is supplied ; 
And art almost an alien to the hearts 
Of all the court and princes of my blood : 
The hope and expectation of thy time 
Is ruin'd ; and the soul of every man 
Prophetically does forethink thy fall. 
Had I so lavish of my presence been, 
So common-hackney 5 d in the eyes of men, 
So stale and cheap to vulgar company ; 
Opinion, that did help me to the crown, 
Had still kept loyal to possession ; 
And left me in reputeless banishment, 
A fellow of no mark, nor likelihood. 
By being seldom seen, I could not stir, 
But, like a comet, I was wonder' d at : 
That men would tell their children, This is lie ; 
Others would say, — Where? which is Boling- 

broke ? 
And then I stole all courtesy from heaven, 
And dress' d myself in such humility, 
2k 



498 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

That I did pluck allegiance from men's hearts, 
Loud shouts and salutations from their mouths, 
Even in the presence of the crowned king. 
Thus did I keep my person fresh, and new ; 
My presence, like a robe pontifical, 
Ne'er seen, but wonder' d at : and so my state, 
Seldom, but sumptuous, showed like a feast, 
And won, by rareness, such solemnity. 
The skipping king, he ambled up and down 
With shallow jesters, and rash bavin wits, 
Soon kindled, and soon burn'd: carded his 

state ; 
Mingled his royalty with capering fools ; 
Had his great name profaned with their scorns : 
And gave his countenance, against his name, 
To laugh at gibing boys, and stand the push 
Of every beardless vain comparative : 
Grew a companion to the common streets, 
Enfeoff' d himself to popularity : 
That being daily swallow' d by men's eyes, 
They surfeited with honey ; and began 
To loathe the taste of sweetness, whereof a little 
More than a little is by much too much. 
So, when he had occasion to be seen, 
He was but as the cuckoo is in June, 
Heard, not regarded ; seen, but with such eyes, 
As, sick and blunted with community, 
Afford no extraordinary gaze, 
Such as is bent on sun-like majesty 
"When it shines seldom in admiring eyes : 
But rather drowz'd, and hung their eye-lids 

down, 
Slept in his face, and render' d such aspect 
As cloudy men use to their adversaries ; 
Being with his presence glutted, gorg'd, and 

full. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 499 

And in that very line, Harry, stand' st thou: 

For thou hast lost thy princely privilege, 

With vile participation ; not an eye 

But is a-weary of thy common sight, 

Save mine, which hath desir'd to see thee more ; 

Which now doth that I would not have it do, 

Make blind itself with foolish tenderness. 

P. Hen. I shall hereafter, my thrice-gracious 
lord, 
Be more myself. 

K. Hen. Tor all the world, 

As thou art to this hour, was Richard then 
When I from France set foot at Ravenspurg ; 
And even as I was then, is Percy now. 
Now by my sceptre, and my soul to boot, 
He hath more worthy interest to the state, 
Than thou, the shadow of succession : 
For, of no right, nor colour like to right, 
He doth fill fields with harness in, the realm : 
Turns head against the lion's armed jaws ; 
And, being no more in debt to years than thou, 
Leads ancient lords and reverend bishops on, 
To bloody battles, and to bruising arms. 
What never-dying honour hath he got 
Against renowned Douglas ; wiiose high deeds, 
Whose hot incursions, and great name in arms, 
Holds from all soldiers chief majority, 
And military title capital, 
Through all the kingdoms that acknowledge 

Christ! 
Thrice hath this Hotspur Mars in swathing 

clothes, 
This infant warrior in his enterprizes 
Discomfited great Douglas : ta'en him once, 
Enlarged him', and made a friend of him, 
To fill the mouth of deep defiance up 



500 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

And shake the peace and safety of our throne. 
And what say you to this ? Percy, Northum- 
berland, 
The archbishop's grace of York, Douglas, Mor- 
timer, 
Capitulate against us, and are up. 
But wherefore do I tell these news to thee ? 
"Why, Harry, do I tell thee of my foes, 
"Which art my near'st and dearest enemy ? 
Thou that art like enough, — through vassal fear, 

Base inclination, and the start of spleen, 

To fight against me under Percy's pay, 

To dog his heels, and court'sy at his frowns, 

To show how much degenerate thou art. 

P. Heist. Do not think so, you shall not find 
it so; 
And God forgive them, that have so much 

sway'd 
Tour majesty's good thoughts away from me ! 
I will redeem all this on Percy's head, 
And, in the closing of some glorious day, 
Be bold to tell you, that I am your son ; 
"When I will wear a garment all of blood, 
And stain my favours in a bloody mask, 
Which, wash'd away, shall scour my shame 

with it. 
And that shall be the day, whene'er it lights, 
That this same child of honour and renown, 
This gallant Hotspur, this all-praised knight, 
And your unthought-of Harry, chance to meet : 
For every honour sitting on his helm, 
Would they were multitudes ; and on my head 
My shames redoubled ! for the time will come, 
That I shall make this northern youth exchange 
His glorious deeds for my indignities. 
Percy is but my factor, good my lord, 



WILLIAM SKAKESPLJABE. 501 

To engross up glorious deeds on my behalf; 
And I will call him to so strict account, 
That he shall render every glory up, 
Yea, even the slightest worship of his time, 
Or I will tear the reckoning from his heart. 
This, in the name of God, I promise here : 
The which if he be pleas' d I shall perform, 
I do beseech your majesty, may salve 
The long-grown wounds of my intemperance : 
If not, the end of life cancels all bands : 
And I will die a hundred thousand deaths, 
Ere break the smallest parcel of this vow. 
K. Hen. A hundred thousand rebels die in 

this: — 
Thou shalt have charge, and sovereign trust, 

herein. 

K. HENRY IV., PART I., A. 3, S. 2. 



THE PHILOSOPHY OF MERRIMENT. 

Wolset. My lord Sands, 

I am beholden to you : cheer your neighbours. — 
Ladies, you are not merry ; — Gentlemen, 
Whose fault is this ? 

Sands. The red wine first must rise 

In their fair cheeks, my lord; then we shall 

have them 
Talk us to silence. 

K. HENEY VIII., A. 1, S. 4. 



THE PHYSIOGNOMY OF A NOBLE 
MIND PERTURBED. 

Hotspub. How now, Kate? I must leave 
you within these two hours. 



502 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Lady Peect. 0, my good lord, why are you 

thus alone ? 
For what offence have I, this fortnight, been 
A banish'd woman from my Harry's bed ? 
Tell me, sweet lord, what is't that takes from 

thee 
Thy stomach, pleasure, and thy golden sleep ? 
Why dost thou bend thine eyes upon the earth ; 
And start so often when thou sit'st alone ? 
Why hast thou lost the fresh blood in thy 

cheeks ; 
And given my treasures, and my rights of thee, 
To thick-ey'd musing, and curs' d melancholy ? 
In thy faint slumbers, I by thee have watch' d, 
And heard thee murmur tales of iron wars : 
Speak terms of manage to thy bounding steed ; 
Cry, Courage! — to thejield! And thou hast 

talk'd 
Of sallies, and retires ; of trenches, tents, 
Of palisadoes, frontiers, parapets ; 
Of basilisks, of cannon, culverin ; 
Of prisoners' ransome, and of soldiers slain, 
And all the 'currents of a heady fight. 
Thy spirit within thee hath been so at war, 
And thus hath so bestir' d thee in thy sleep, 
That beads of sweat have stood upon thy brow, 
Like bubbles in a late disturbed stream : 
And in thy face strange motions have appear' d, 
Such as we see when men restrain their breath 
On some great sudden haste. O, what portents 

are these ? 
Some heavy business hath my lord in hand, 
And I must know it, else he loves me not. 

K. HENRY IV., PART I., A. 2, S. 3. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 503 

THE POLICY OF DEFIANCE. 

Tuen head, and stop pursuit : for coward dogs 
Most spend their mouths, when what they seem. 

to threaten, 
Runs far before them. Good my sovereign, 
Take up the English sort ; and let them know 
Of what a monarchy you are the head : 
Self-love, my liege, is not so vile a sin 
As self-neglecting. 

K. HENRY V., A. 2, S. 4. 



THE POWER OF EDUCATED BEAUTY 
AND VIRTUE OVER LOWER 
NATURES. 

She Phebes me : Mark how the tyrant writes. 
Art thou god to shepherd turn'd, 
That a maiden's heart hath ourrCd? 
Why, thy godhead laid apart, 
Warr'st thou with a womarCs heart ? 
Whiles the eye of man did woo me, 
That could do vengeance to me. — 
If the scorn of your bright eyne 
Save power to raise such love in mine, 
Alack, in me what strange effect 
Would they work in mild aspect ? 
Whiles you chid me, I did love ; 
Sow then might your prayers move ? 
Se, that brings this love to thee, 
Little knows this love in me : 
And by him seal up thy mind ; 
Whether that thy youth and kind 
Will the faithful offer take 
Of me, and all that I can make ; 
Or else by him my love deny, 
And then Ell study how to die. 

AS YOU LIKE IT, A. 4, S. 3. 



504 THU PHILOSOPHY OF 

THE POWER OF OBSERVATION. 

"Was this taken 
By any understanding pate but thine ? 
For thy conceit is soaking, will draw in 
More than the common blocks : — Not noted, is't, 
But of the finer natures ? by some severals, 
Of head-piece extraordinary ? lower messes, 
Perchance are to this business purblind : say. 

winter's tale, a. 1. s. 2, 



THE POWER OF THE IMAGINATION. 

Moee strange than true. I never may believe 
These antique fables, nor these fairy toys. 
Lovers and madmen have such seething brains, 
Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend 
More than cool reason ever comprehends. 
The lunatick, the lover and the poet, 
Are of imagination all compact : 
One sees more devils than vast hell can hold ; 
That is, the madman : the lover, all as frantick, 
Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt : 
The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling, 
Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to 

heaven, 
And, as imagination bodies forth 
The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen 
Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing 
A local habitation, and a name. 
Such tricks hath strong imagination ; 
That, if it would but apprehend some joy, 
It comprehends some bringer of that joy ; 
Or, in the night, imagining some fear, 
How easy is a bush suppos'd a bear ! 
But all the story of the night told over, 



And all their minds transfigured so together, 
More witnesseth than fancy's images, 
And grows to something of great constancy ; 
But, howsoever, strange, and admirable. 

MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DUEAM, A. 5, S. 1. 



THE PRESCIENCE OF CONSCIENCE. 

If it were done, when 'tis done, then 'twere well 
It were done quickly : If the assassination 
Could trammel up the consequence, and catch, 
With his surcease, success ; that but this blow 
Might be the be-all and the end-all here, 
But here, upon this bank and shoal of time, — 
We'd jump the life to come. — But in these cases, 
We still have judgment here ; that we but teach 
Bloody instructions, which being taught, return 
To plague the inventor : This even-handed justice 
Commends the ingredients of our poison' d chalice 
To our own lips. He's here in double trust : 
"First, as I am his kinsman and his subject, 
Strong both against the deed ; then, as his host, 
Who should against his murderer shut the door, 
Not bear the knife myself. Besides, this Duncan 
Hath borne his faculties so meek, hath been 
So clear in his great office, that his virtues 
Will plead like angels, trumpet-tongued, against 
The deep damnation of his taking-off; 
And pity, like a naked new-born babe, 
Striding the blast, or heaven's cherubim, hors'd 
Upon the sightless couriers of the air, 
Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye, 
That tears shall drown the wind. — I have no spur 
To prick the sides of my intent, but only 
Vaulting ambition, which o'er-leaps itself, 
And falls on the other. macbeth, a. i, s. 7. 



THE PRESENT AND THE FUTURE 
DEPEND ON OURSELVES. 

Otjb remedies oft in ourselves do lie, 
Which we ascribe to heaven : the fated sky- 
Gives us free scope ; only, doth backward pull 
Our slow designs, when we ourselves are dull. 
What power is it, which mounts my love so 

high; 
That makes me see, and cannot feed mine eye ? 
The mightiest space in fortune nature brings 
To join like likes, and kiss like native things. 
Impossible be strange attempts, to those 
That weigh their pains in sense ; and do suppose, 
What hath been cannot be : Who ever strove 
To show her merit, that did miss her love ? 
The king's disease — my project may deceive me. 
But my intents are fix'd, and will not leave me. 

all's well that ends well, a. 1, s. 1. 



THE PRINCIPLE OF GREATNESS. 

Rightly to be great, 
Is, not to stir without great argument ; 
But greatly to find quarrel in a straw, 
When honour's at the stake. 

HAMLET, A. 4, S. 4. 



THE PROPOSAL. 

Deab Isabel, 
I have a motion much imports your good ; 
Whereto if you'll a willing ear incline, 



WILLIAM SHAKJESPUAEU. 507 

"What's mine is your's and what is your's is 

mine : — 
So, bring us to our palace ; where we'll show 
What's yet behind, that's meet you all should 

know. 

MEASURE FOB, MEASURE, A. 5, S. 1„ 



THE QUEEN'S FORTITUDE. 

Gteeat lords, wise men ne'er sit and wail their 

loss, 
But cheeriy seek how to redress their harms. 
What though the mast be now blown over-board, 
The cable broke, the holding anchor lost, 
And half our sailors swallow' d in the flood ; 
Tet lives our pilot still : Is't meet, that he 
Should leave the helm, and like a fearful lad, 
With tearful eyes add water to the sea, 
And give more strength to that which hath too 

much ; 
Whiles, in his moan, the ship splits on the rock, 
Which industry and courage might have sav'd ? 
Ah, what a shame ! ah, what a fault were this ! 
Say, Warwick was our anchor ; What of that ? 
And Montague our top-mast ; What of him ? 
Our slaughter' d friends the tackles; What of 

these? 
Why, is not Oxford here another anchor ? 
And Somerset another goodly mast ? 
The friends of France our shrouds and tacklings ? 
And, though unskilful, why not Ned and I 
Eor once allow' d the skilful pilot's charge ? 
We will not from the helm, to sit and weep ; 
But keep our course, though the rough wind say 

— no, 



508 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

From shelves and rocks that threaten us with 

wreck. 
As good to chide the waves, as speak them fair. 
And what is Edward, but a ruthless sea ? 
What Clarence, but a quicksand of deceit ? 
And Richard, but a ragged fatal rock ? 
All these the enemies to our poor bark. 
Say, you can swim ; alas, 'tis but a while : 
Tread on the sand ; why there you quickly sink : 
Bestride the rock ; the tide will wash you off, 
Or else you famish, that's a threefold death. 
This speak I, lords, to let you understand, 
In case some one of you would fly from us, 
That there's no hop'd-for mercy with the, 

brothers, 
More than with ruthless waves, with sands and 

rocks. 
Why, courage, then ! what cannot be avoided, 
'Twere childish weakness to lament, or fear. 

K. HENRY VI., PART III., A. 5, S. 4. 



THE QUARREL OF THE TWO 
FRIENDS. 

Come, Antony, and young Octavius, come, 

Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius, 

For Cassius is aweary of the world : 

Hated by one he loves ; brav'd by his brother ; 

Check'd like a bondman; all his faults observ'd, 

Set in a note-book, learn'd and conn'd by rote, 

To cast into my teeth. O, I could weep 

My spirit from mine eyes ! — There is my dagger, 

And here my naked breast ; within, a heart 

Dearer than Plutus' mine, richer than gold : 

If that thou be'st a Roman, take it forth ; 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEABE. 509 

I, that denied thee gold, will give my heart : 
Strike, as thou didst at Ccesar ; for, I know, 
When thou didst hate him worst, thou lov'dst 

him better 
Than ever thou lov'dst Cassius. 

JULIUS CSISAR, A. 4, S. 3. 



THE RAREST OF JEWELS FOUND. 

Hobatto, thou art e'en as just a man 
As e'er my conversation cop'd withal. 

Nay, do not think I natter : 
For what advancement may I hope from thee, 
That no revenue hast, but thy good spirits, 
To feed, and clothe thee? Why should the 

poor be flatter'd ? 
No, let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp ; 
And crook the ready hinges of the knee, 
Where thrift may follow fawning. Dost thou 

hear ? 
Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice, 
And could of men distinguish her election, 
She hath seal'd thee for herself: for thou hast 

been 
As one, in suffering all, that suffers nothing ; 
A man, that fortune's buffets and rewards 
Hast ta'en with equal thanks : and blessed are 

those, 
Whose blood and judgment are so well co- 
mingled, 
That they are not a pipe for fortune's finger 
To sound what stop she please : Give me that man 
That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him 
In my heart's core, ay, in my heart of heart, 
As I do thee. — Something too much of this. — 



S io THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

There is a play to-night before the king ; 
One scene of it comes near the circumstance, 
"Which I have told thee of my father's death. 
I pr'ythee, when thou seest that act a-foot, 
Even with the very comment of thy soul 
Observe my uncle : if his occulted guilt 
Do not itself unkennel in one speech, 
It is a damned ghost that we have seen ; 
And my imaginations are as foul 
As Vulcan's smithy. Give him heedful note : 
For I mine eyes will rivet to his face ; 
And, after, we will both our judgments join 
In censure of his seeming. 

HAMLET, A. 3, S. 2. 



THE REALLY NOBLE. 

I am not of that feather, to shake off 
My friend when he must need me. I do know 

him 
A gentleman, that well deserves a help, 
"Which he shall have : I'll pay the debt, and free 

him. 
Commend me to him : I will send his ransome ; 
And, being enfranchis'd, bid him come to me : — 
'Tis not enough to help the feeble up, 
But to support him after. 

TIMON OP ATHENS, A. 1, S. 1. 



THE RECKONING DAY EVER 

APPROACHING. 

Plavius. O my good lord ! 

At many times I brought in my accounts, 
Laid them before you ; you would throw them off, 



WILLIAM SSAKESPEABE. 5 1 1 

And say. you found them in mine honesty. 
"When, for some trifling present, you have bid me 
Return so much, I have shook my head, and 

wept; 
Yea, 'gainst the authority of manners, pray'd you 
To hold your hand more close : I did endure 
Not seldom, nor no slight checks ; when I have 
Prompted you, in the ebb of your estate, 
And your great flow of debts. My dear-lov'd 

lord, 
Though you hear now, (too late !) yet now's a 

time, 
The greatest of your having lacks a half 
To pay your present debts. 

Timois". Let all my land be sold. 

Flav. 'Tis all engag'd, some forfeited and 
gone ; 
And what remains will hardly stop the mouth 
Of present dues : the future comes apace : 
What shall defend the interim ? and at length 
How goes our reckoning ? 

Tim. To Lacedcemon did my land extend. 

Play. O my good lord, the world is but a 
word; 
Were it all yours, to give it in a breath, 
How quickly were it gone ? 

Tim. You tell me true. 

TIMON OF ATHENS, A. 2, S 2. 



THE REFORMED PRINCE MAKING 
THE AMENDE HONORABLE. 

Chief Justice. Good morrow ; and heaven 
save your majesty ! 



5 i2 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

King Henry. This new and gorgeous gar- 
ment, majesty, 
Sits not so easy on me as yon think. — 
Brothers, you mix your sadness with some fear ; 
This is the English, not the Turkish court ; 
Not Amuraih an Amuraih succeeds, 
But Harry r , Harry : Yet be sad, good brothers, 
For, to speak truth, it very well becomes you ; 
Sorrow so royally in you appears, 
That I will deeply put the fashion on, 
And wear it in my heart. "Why then, be sad : 
But entertain no more of it, good brothers, 
Than a joint burden laid upon us all. 
For me, by heaven, I bid you be assur'd, 
I'll be your father and your brother too ; 
Let me but bear your love, I'll bear your cares. 
Tet weep, that Harry's dead ; and so will I ; 
But Harry lives, that shall convert those tears, 
By number, into hours of happiness. 
Tou all look strangely on me : — and you most ; 
[To the Chief Justice. 
Tou are, I think, assur'd I love you not. 

Ch. Just. I am assur'd, if I be measur'd 
rightly, 
Tour majesty hath no just cause to hate me. 

King. JSTo ! 
How might a prince of my great hopes forget 
So great indignities you laid upon me ? 
"What ! rate, rebuke, and roughly send to prison 
The immediate heir of England ! "Was this easy ? 
May this be wash'd in Lethe, and forgotten ? 

Ch. Jttst. I then did use the person of your 
father ; 
The image of his power lay then in me : 
And, in the administration of his law, 
Whiles I was busy for the commonwealth, 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEABE. 5 1 3 

Tour highness pleased to forget my place, 
The majesty and power of law and justice, 
The image of the king whom I presented, 
And struck me in my very seat of judgment ; 
Whereon, as an offender to your father, 
I gave bold way to my authority, 
And did commit you. If the deed were ill, 
Be you contented, wearing now the garland, 
To have a son set your decrees at nought ; 
To pluck down justice from your awful bench -, 
To trip the course of law, and blunt the sword 
That guards the peace and safety of your person : 
Kay, more ; to spurn at your most royal image, 
And mock your workings in a second body. 
Question your royal thoughts, make the case 

yours; 
Be now the father, and propose a son : 
Hear your own dignity so much profan'd, 
See your most dreadful laws so loosely slighted, 
Behold yourself so by a son disdained ; 
And then imagine me taking your part, 
And, in your power, soft silencing your son : 
After this cold considerance, sentence me ; 
And, as you are a king, speak in your state, 
"What I have done, that misbecame my place, 
My person, or my liege's sovereignty. 

King. Tou are right, justice, and you weigh 

this well ; 
Therefore still bear the balance, and the sword ; 
And I do wish your honours may increase, 
Till you do live to see a son of mine 
Offend you, and obey you, as I did. 
So shall I live to speak my father's words ; — 
Happy am I, that have a man so bold, 
That dares do justice on my proper son : 
And not less happy, having such a son, 
2l 



5H THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

That would deliver up his greatness so 

Into the hands of justice. — You did commit me: 

For which, I do commit into your hand 

Th' unstained sword that you have us'd to bear; 

"With this remembrance, — That you use the 

same 
"With the like bold, just, and impartial spirit, 
As you have done 'gainst me. There is my 

hand ; 
You shall be as a father to my youth : 
My voice shall sound as you do prompt mine 

ear; 
And I will stoop and humble my intents 

To your well practis'd, wise directions. 

And, princes all, believe me, I beseech you ; — 
My father is gone wild into his grave, 
For in his tomb lie my affections ; 
And with his spirit sadly I survive, 
To mock the expectation of the world ; 
To frustrate prophecies ; and to raze out 
Rotten opinion, who hath writ me down 
After my seeming. The tide of blood in me 
Hath proudly flowed in vanity, till now : 
Now doth it turn, and ebb back to the sea ; 
"Where it shall mingle with the state of floods, 
And flow henceforth in formal majesty. 
Now call we our high court of parliament : 
And let us choose such limbs of noble counsel, 
That the great body of our state may go 
In equal rank with the best govern' d nation: 
That war, or peace, or both at once, may be 

As things acquainted and familiar to us ; 

In which you, father, shall have foremost hand. 
[To the Loed Chiee Justice. 
Our coronation done, we will accite, 
As I before remember' d, aU our state : 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 5 1 5 

And (God consigning to my good intents,) 

No prince, nor peer, shall have just cause to 

say — 
Heaven shorten Harry's happy life one day. 

K. HENRY IV., PART II., A. 5, S. 2. 



THE REFORMED SINNER OFTTIMES 
THE MOST SINCERE SAINT. 

Baptista. Now, in good sadness, son Pe- 
truchio, 
I think thou hast the veriest shrew of all. 

Petruchio. Well, I say — no: and there- 
fore, for assurance, 
Let each one send unto his wife ; 
And he, whose wife is most obedient 
To come at first when he doth send for her, 
Shall win the wager which we will propose. 

Hoetensio. Content : — What is the wager ? 

Ltjcejstio. Twenty crowns. 

Pet. Twenty crowns ! 
I'll venture so much on my hawk, or hound, 
But twenty times so much upon my wife. 

Ltjc. A hundred then. 

Hob. Content. 

Pet. A match ; 'tis done. 

Hoe. Who shall begin ? 

Ltjc. That will I. Go, 

Piondello, bid your mistress come to me. 

Biondello. I go. [Exit. 

Bap. Son, I will be your half, Bianca comes. 

Ltjc. I'll have no halves; I'll bear it all 
myself. 

Re-enter Bioisdello. 

How now ! what news ? 



516 THE PHILOSOPHT OF 

Bioe". Sir, my mistress sends you word 

That she is busy, and she cannot come. 

Pet. How! she is busy, and she cannot 
come ! 
Is that an answer ? 

Gtkemio. Ay, and a kind one too : 

Pray Grod, sir, your wife send you not a worse. 

Pet. I hope, better. 

Hob. Sirrah, Biondello, go, and entreat my 
wife 
To come to me forthwith. [Exit Biondello. 

Pet. O ho ! entreat her ! 

Nay, then she must needs come. 

Hoe. I am afraid, sir, 

Do what you can, yours will not be entreated. 

Re-enter Bioisdello. 

Now where's my wife ? 

Bion. She says, you have some goodly jest 
in hand ; 
She will not come ; she bids you come to her. 
Pet. Worse and worse ; she will not come ! 
O vile, 
Intolerable, not to be endur'd! 
Sirrah, Grumio, go to your mistress ; 
Say, I command her come to me. [Exit G-etjmio. 
Hoe. I know her answer. 
Pet. What ? 

Hoe. She will not come. 

Pet. The fouler fortune mine, and there an 
end. 

Enter Kathaeina. 

Bap. Now, by my holidame, here comes 

Katharina I 
Kathaehsta. What is your will, sir that you 

send for me ? 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 5 1 7 

Pet. Where is your sister, and Hortensio s 

wife? 
Kath. They sit conferring by the parlour fire. 
Pet, Go, fetch them hither ; if they deny to 
come, 
Swinge me them soundly forth unto their hus- 
bands : 
Away, I say, and bring them hither straight. 

[Exit Kathariisa. 

Luc. Here is a wonder, if you talk of a 

wonder. 
Hor. And so it is ; I wonder what it 

bodes. 
Pet. Marry, peace it bodes, and love, and 
quiet life, 
An awful rule, and right supremacy ; 
And, to be short, what not, that's sweet and 
happy. 
Bap. Now fair befal thee, good Petruchio ! 
The wager thou hast won ; and I will add 
Unto their losses twenty thousand crowns ! 
Another dowry to another daughter, 
For she is chang'd, as she had never been. 

Pet. Nay, I will win my wager better yet ; 
And show more sign of her obedience, 
Her new-built virtue and obedience. 

Re-enter Kathariea, with Biakca and Widow. 

See, where she comes ; and brings your froward 

wives 
As prisoners to her womanly persuasion. — 
Katharine, that cap of yours becomes you not ; 
Off with that bauble, throw it under foot. 

[KATKAniN a pulls off her cap, and throws 
it down. 



5 1 8 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Widow. Lord, let me never have a cause to 
sigh, 
Till I be brought to such a silly pass ! 

Blot ca. Pye ! what a foolish duty call you 

this ? 
Ltjc. I would, your duty were as foolish too: 
The wisdom of your duty, fair Bianca, 
Hath cost me an hundred crowns since supper- 
time. 
BiAtfCA. The more fool you, for laying on 

my duty. 
Pet. Katharine, I charge thee, tell these 
headstrong women, 
What duty they do owe their lords and husbands. 
Win. Come, come, you're mocking ; we will 

have no telling. 
Pet. Come on, I say ; and first begin with 

her. 
Win. She shall not. 
Pet. I say, she shall ; — and first begin with 

her. 
Kath. Pye, fye! unknit that threat'ning 
unkind brow ; 
And dart not scornful glances from those eyes, 
To wound thy lord, thy king, thy governor : 
It blots thy beauty, as frosts bite the meads ; 
Confounds thy fame, as whirlwinds shake fair 

buds; 
And in no sense is meet or amiable. 
A woman mov'd, is like a fountain troubled, 
Muddy, ill-seeming, thick, bereft of beauty ; 
And, while it is so, none so dry or thirsty 
Will deign to sip, or touch one drop of it. 
Thy husband is thy lord, thy life, thy keeper, 
Thy head, thy sovereign ; one that cares for thee, 
And for thy maintenance : commits his body 



WILLIAM SBAEJE8PEASE. 5 1 9 

To painful labour, both by sea and land ; 
To watch the night in storms, the day in cold, 
While thou liest warm at home, secure and safe; 
And craves no other tribute at thy hands, 
But love, fair looks, and true obedience ; — 
Too little payment for so great a debt. 
Such duty as the subject owes the prince, 
Even such a woman oweth to her husband : 
And when she's fro ward, peevish, sullen, sour, 
And not obedient to his honest will, 
What is she, but a foul contending rebel, 
And graceless traitor to her loving lord ? — 
I am asham'd, that women are so simple 
To offer war, where they should kneel for peace ; 
Or seek for rule, supremacy, and sway, 
When they are bound to serve, love, and obey. 
Why are our bodies soft, and weak, and smooth, 
Unapt to toil, and trouble in the world ; 
But that our soft conditions, and our hearts, 
Should well agree with our external parts ? 
Come, come, you froward and unable worms ! 
My mind hath been as big as one of yours, 
My heart as great ; my reason, haply, more, 
To bandy word for word, and frown for frown ; 
But now, I see our lances are but straws ; 
Our strength as weak, our weakness past com- 
pare, — 
That seeming to be most, which we least are. 
Then vail your stomachs, for it is no boot ; 
And place your hands below your husband's foot : 
In token of which duty, if he please, 
My hand is ready, may it do him ease. 

Pet. Why, there's a wench ! — Come on, and 

kiss me, Kate. 
Luc. Well, go thy ways, old lad : for thou 
shalt ha't. 



52o THP PHILOSOPHY OP 

Vincentio. 'Tis a good hearing, when chil- 
dren are toward. 
Luc. But a harsh hearing, when women are 
froward. 

Pet. Come, Kate, we'll to bed : 

"We three are married, but you two are sped. 

'Twas I won the wager, though you hit the 

white ; [To Lttcentio. 

And, being a winner, God give you good night ! 

\Pxeunt Petetjchio and Kathaehsta. 

Hoe. Now go thy ways, thou hast tam'd a 

curst shrew. 
Luc. 'Tis a wonder, by your leave, she will 
be tam'd so. 

TAMING OP THE SHREW, A. 5, S. 2. 



THERE IS A DIVINITY THAT SO 

DOTH HEDGE A KING. 

"We are amaz'd ; and thus long have we stood 
To watch the fearful bending of thy knee, 
Because we thought ourself thy lawful king : 
And if we be, how dare thy joints forget 
To pay their awful duty to our presence ? 
If we be not, show us the hand of God 
That hath dismiss' d us from our stewardship ; 
Por well we know, no hand of blood and bone 
Can gripe the sacred handle of our scepter, 
Unless he do profane, steal, or usurp. 
And though you think, that all, as you have done, 
Have torn their souls, by turning them from us, 

And we are barren, and bereft of friends ; 

Yet know, — my master, God omnipotent, 
Is mustering in his clouds, on our behalf, 
Armies of pestilence ; and they shall strike 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEABE. 5 2 1 

Tour children yet unborn, and unbegot, 
That lift your vassal hands against my head, 
And threat the glory of my precious crown. 
Tell BolingbroJce, (for yond', methinks, he is,) 
That every stride he makes upon my land, 
Is dangerous treason : He is come to ope 
The purple testament of bleeding war ; 
But ere the crown he looks for live in peace, 
Ten thousand bloody crowns of mothers' sons 
Shall ill become the flower of England's face ; 
Change the complexion of her maid-pale peace 
To scarlet indignation, and bedew 
Her pastures' grass with faithful English blood. 

K. RICHARD II., A. 3, S. 3. 



THERE IS A TIDE IN THE AFFAIRS 
OF MEN. 

Fobtune is merry, 
And in this mood will give us any thing. 

JULIUS CESAR, A. 3, S. 2. 



THERE IS A TIDE IN THE AFFAIRS 

OF MEN. 

Tor must note beside, 
That we have tried the utmost of our friends. 
Our legions are brim-full, our cause is ripe : 
The enemy increaseth every day, 
"We, at the height, are ready to decline. 
There is a tide in the affairs of men, 
"Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune ; 
Omitted, all the voyage of their life 
Is bound in shallows, and in miseries. 



522 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

On such a full sea are we now afloat ; 

And we must take the current when it serves, 

Or lose our ventures. 

JULIUS CESAR, A. 4, S. 3. 



THERE IS SOMETIMES MORE IN 
DREAMS THAN IDLE FANTASY. 

Shtlock. I am bid forth to supper, Jessica; 
There are my keys: — But wherefore should I go? 
I am not bid for love ; they flatter me : 
But yet I'll go in hate, to feed upon 
The prodigal Christian. — Jessica, my girl, 
Look to my house :• — I am right loath to go ; 
There is some ill a-brewing towards my rest, 
[For I did dream of money-bags to-night. 
Hear you me, Jessica : 

Lock up my doors ; and when you hear the drum, 
And the vile squeaking of the wry-neck' d fife, 
Clamber not you up to the casements then, 
Nor thrust your head into the publick street, 
To gaze on Christian fools with varnish' d faces : 
But stop my house's ears, I mean my casements; 
Let not the sound of shallow foppery enter 
My sober house. — By Jacob's staff, I swear, 
I have no mind of feasting forth to-night : 
But I will go. — 
Well, Jessica, go in ; 
Perhaps, I will return immediately; 
Do, as I bid you, 

Shut doors after you : Past bind, fast find ; 
A proverb never stale in thrifty mind. \_Exit. 

Jessica. Farewell ; and if my fortune be not 
crost, 
I have a father, you a daughter, lost. 

MERCHANT OF VENICE, A. 2, S. 5. 



I 

WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 523 \ 



THE EELEASE FROM FAIRY 
WITCHERY. 

Oberoi*. Thou seest, these lovers seek a 

place to fight : 
Hie therefore, Robin, overcast the night ; 
The starry welkin cover thou anon 
With drooping fog, as black as Acheron ; 
And lead these testy rivals so astray, 
As one come not within another's way. 
Like to Lysander sometime frame thy tongue, 
Then stir Demetrius up with bitter wrong ; 
And sometime rail thou like Demetrius ; 
And from each other look thou lead them 

thus, 
Till o'er their brows death-counterfeiting sleep 
With leaden legs and batty wings doth creep : 
Then crush this herb into Lysander s eye ; 
Whose liquor hath this virtuous property, 
To take from thence all error, with his might, 
And make his eye-balls roll with wonted sight. 
When they next wake, all this derision 
Shall seem a dream, and fruitless vision ; 
And back to Athens shall the lovers wend, 
With league, whose date till death shall never 

end. 
Whiles I in this affair do thee employ, 
I'll to my queen, and beg her Indian boy ; 
And then I will her charmed eye release 
From monster's view, and all things shall be 

peace. 
Puck. My fairy lord, this must be done with 

haste ; 
For night's swift dragons cut the clouds full 

fast, 
And yonder shines Aurora's harbinger, 



524 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

At whose approach, ghosts, wandering here and 

there, 
Troop home to church-yards : damned spirits all, 
That in cross-ways and floods have burial, 
Already to their wormy beds are gone ; 
For fear lest day should look their shames upon, 
They wilfully themselves exile from light, 
And must for aye consort with black-brow' d 

night. 
Obe. But we are spirits of another sort : 
I with the morning's love have oft made sport ; 
And, like a forester, the groves may tread, 
Even till the eastern gate, all fiery-red, 
Opening on Nepttme with fair blessed beams, 
Turns into yellow gold his salt-green streams. 
But, notwithstanding, haste ; make no delay : 
We may effect this business yet ere day. 

MIDSUMMMER NIGHT'S DREAM, A. 3, S. 2. 



THE EESOLVE AND PROMISE. 

Whenever Buckingham doth turn his hate 
Upon your grace, but with all duteous love 
Doth cherish you, and yours, Grod punish? me 
With hate in those where I expect most love ! 
When I have most need to employ a friend, 
And most assured that he is a friend, 
Deep, hollow, treacherous, and full of guile, 
Be he unto me ! this do I beg of heaven, 
When I am cold in love, to you, or yours. 

K. RICHARD III., A. 2, S. 1. 



THE RETURN OF CONSCIOUSNESS. 

A solemn air, and the best comforter 
To an unsettled fancy, cure thy brains, 



WILLIAM S&AKESPEABE. 525 

Now useless, boil'd within thy skull! There 
stand. 

For you are spell-stopp'd. 

Holy Gonzalo, honourable man, 

Mine eyes, even sociable to the show of thine, 

Pall fellowly drops.— The charm dissolves apace ; 

And as the morning steals upon the night, 

Melting the darkness, so their rising senses 

Begin to chase the ignorant fumes that mantle 

Their clearer reason. Their understanding 

Begins to swell ; and the approaching tide 

"Will shortly fill the reasonable shores, 

That now lie foul and muddy. Not one of them, 

That yet looks on me, or would know me. 

TEMPEST, A. 5, S. 1. 



THE BAIT OF FALSEHOOD. 

See you now ; 

Tour bait of falsehood takes this carp of truth : 
And thus do we of wisdom and of reach, 
"With windlaces, and with assays of bias, 
By indirections find directions out. 

HAMLET, A. 2, S. 1. 



THE SACRED CHARACTER OF 

MARRIAGE. 

A dower, my lords ! disgrace not so your king, 
That he should be so abject, base, and poor, 
To choose for wealth, and not for perfect love. 
Henry is able to enrich his queen, 
And not to seek a queen to make him rich : 
So worthless peasants bargain for their wives, 
As market-men for oxen, sheep, or horse. 
Marriage is a matter of more worth, 



526 THE PHILQSOPHY OF 

Than to be dealt in by attorneyship ; 

Not whom we will, but whom his grace affects, 

Must be companion of his nuptial bed : 

And therefore, lords, since he affects her most, 

It most of all these reasons bindeth us, 

In our opinions she should be preferr'd. 

For what is wedlock forced, but a hell, 

An age of discord and continual strife ? 

"Whereas the contrary bringeth forth bliss, 

And is a pattern of celestial peace. 

"Whom should we match, with Henry, being a 

king, 
But Margaret, that is daughter to a king ? 
Her peerless feature, joined with her birth, 
Approves her fit for none, but for a king : 
Her valiant courage, and undaunted spirit, 
(More than in women commonly is seen,) 
"Will answer our hope in issue of a king ; 
For Henry, son unto a conqueror, 
Is likely to beget more conquerors, 
If with a lady of so high resolve, 
As is fair Margaret, he be link' d in love. 
Then yield, my lords ; and here conclude with 

me, 
That Margaret shall be queen, and none but she. 

K. HENRY VI., PART I., A. 5, S. 5. 



THE SACRIFICE TO FRIENDSHIP. 

GriTE me your hand, Bassanio ; fare you well ! 
Grieve not that I am fallen to this for you ; 
For herein fortune shows herself more kind 
Than is her custom ; it is still her use, 
To let the wretched man out-live his wealth, 
To view with hollow eye, and wrinkled brow, 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEABK 527 

An age of poverty ; from which lingering penance 
Of such a misery doth she cut me off. 
Commend me to your honourable wife : 
Tell her the process of Antonio's end, 
Say, how I lov'd you, speak me fair in death ; 
And, when the tale is told, bid her be judge, 
"Whether Bassanio had not once a love. 
Repent not you that you shall lose your friend, 
And he repents not that he pays your debt ; 
For, if the Jew do cut but deep enough, 
I'll pay it instantly with all my heart. 

MERCHANT OF YENICE, A. 4, S. 1. 



THE SALT OF MANHOOD. 

Why, have you any discretion ? have you any 
eyes ? Do you know what a man is ? Is 
not birth, beauty, good shape, discourse, man- 
hood, learning, gentleness, virtue, youth, libe- 
rality, and such like, the spice and salt that 
season a man ? 

TROILUS AND CRESSIDA, A. 1, S. 2. 



THE SEARED HEART. 

Yet one time he did call me by my name : 

I urg'd our old acquaintance, and the drops 

That we have bled together. Coriolanus 

He would not answer to : forbad all names ; 

He was a kind of nothing, titleless, 

Till he had forg'd himself a name i' the fire 

Of burning Borne. 

I minded him, how royal 'twas to pardon 

WTien it was less expected : He replied, 

It was a bare petition of a state 



528 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

To one whom they had punish' d. 

I offer' d to awaken his regard 

For his private friends : His answer to me was, 

He could not stay to pick them in a pile 

Of noisome musty chaff : He said, 'twas folly 

For one poor grain or two, to leave unburnt, 

And still to nose the offence. 

CORIOLANUS, A. 5, S. I, 



THE SEABED HEART. 

I tell you, he does sit in gold, his eye 
Red as 'twould burn Rome ; and his injury 
The gaoler to his pity. I kneel'd before him ; 
'Twas very faintly he said, Rise ; dismiss' d me 
Thus, with his speechless hand : What he would 

do,. 
He sent in writing after me ; what he would not, 
Bound with an oath, to yield to his conditions ; 
So, that all hope is vain, 
Unless his noble mother, and his wife ; 
Who, as I hear, mean to solicit him 
Eor mercy to his country. Therefore, let's hence, 
And with our fair entreaties haste them on. 

CORIOLANUS, A. 5, S. 1. 



THE SETTING OF A GREAT MAN'S 
SUN. 

Theee was the weight that pull'd me down. O 

Cromwell, 
The king has gone beyond me, all my glories 
In that one woman I have lost for ever : 
No sun shall ever usher forth mine honours, 
Or gild again the noble troops that waited 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 5 29 

Upon my smiles. Go, get thee from me, Crom- 
well; 
I am a poor fallen man, unworthy now 
To be thy lord and master : Seek the king ; 
That sun, I pray, may never set ! I have told 

him 
"What, and how true thou art : he will advance 

thee ; 
Some little memory of me will stir him, 
(I know his noble nature,) not to let 
Thy hopeful service perish too : Good Cromicell, 
Neglect him not ; make use now, and provide 
For thine own future safety. 
Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear 
In all my miseries ; but thou hast forc'd me 
Out of thy honest truth to play the woman. 
Let's dry our eyes : and thus far hear me, Crom- 
well ; 
And, — when I am forgotten, as I shall be ; 
And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention 
Of me more must be heard of, — say, I taught 

thee ; 
Say, Wolsey, — that once trod the ways of glor}~, 
And sounded all the depths and shoals of honour,— 
Found thee a way, out of his wreck, to rise in ; 
A sure and safe one, though thy master miss'd it. 
Mark but my fall, and that that ruin'd me. 
Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition ; 
By that sin fell the angels ; how can man then, 
The image of his Maker, hope to win by't ? 
Love thyself last : cherish those hearts that hate 

thee ; 
Corruption wins not more than honesty. 
Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, 
To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear 
not: 

2m 



530 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Let all the ends, thou aim'st at, be thy country's, 
Thy God's, and truth's; then if thou fall'st, O 

Cromwell, 
Thou fall'st a blessed martyr. Serve the king ; 
And, — Pry'thee, lead me in : 
There take an inventory of all I have, 
To the last penny ; 'tis the king's : my robe, 
And my integrity to heaven, is all 
I dare now call mine own. O Cromwell, Crom- 
well, 
Had I but serv'd my God with half the zeal 
I serv'd my king, he would not in mine age 
Have left me naked to mine enemies. 

Farewell 
The hopes of court! my hopes in heaven do 
dwell. 

K. HENRY VIII., A. 3, S. 2. 



THE SHREW'S PORTRAIT. 

0, she misused me past the endurance of a 
block ; an oak, but with one green leaf on it, 
would have answer' d her; my very visor began 
to assume life, and scold with her : She told me, 
not thinking I had been myself, that I was the 
prince's jester; that I was duller than a great 
thaw; huddling jest upon jest, with such im- 
possible conveyance, upon me, that I stood like 
a man at a mark, with a whole army shooting at 
me : She speaks poniards, and every word stabs : 
if her breath were as terrible as her termina- 
tions, there were no living near her, she would 
infect to the north star. I would not marry 
her, though she were endowed with all that 
Adam had left him before he transgressed : she 
would have made Hercules have turned spit; 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 531 

yea, and have cleft his club to make the fire too. 
Come, talk not of her : you shall find her the 
infernal Ate in good apparel. I would to God, 
some scholar would conjure her; for, certainly, 
while she is here, a man may live as quiet in 
hell, as in a sanctuary; and people sin upon 
purpose, because they would go thither; so, 
indeed, all disquiet, horror, and perturbation 
follow her. 

Will your grace command me any service to 
the world's end? I will go on the slightest 
errand now to the Antipodes, that you can devise 
to send me on ; I will fetch you a toothpicker 
now from the farthest inch of Asia; bring you 
the length of Prester JoKn's foot ; fetch you a 
hair off the great Cham's beard ; do you any em- 
bassage to the Pigmies, rather than hold three 
words' conference with this harpy. 

MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING, A. 2, S. 1. 



THE SLEEP OF INNOCENCE. 

G-ood gentlemen, look fresh and merrily ; 
Let not our looks put on our purposes ; 
But bear it as our Roman actors do, 
With untir'd spirits, and formal constancy: 
And so, good-morrow to you every one. 

\Exeunt all hut Brutus. 
Boy ! Lucius I — Fast asleep ? It is no matter ; 
Enjoy the honey-heavy dew of slumber : 
Thou hast no figures, nor no fantasies, 
Which busy care draws in the brains of men : 
Therefore thou sleep' st so sound. 

JULIUS C-ESAB, A. 2, S. 1. 



532 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 



THE SOLDIER'S AGONY. 

Behold ! I have a weapon ; 
A better never did itself sustain 
Upon a soldier's thigh : I have seen the day, 
That with this little arm, and this good sword, 
I have made my way through more impediments 
Than twenty times your stop: — But, vain 

boast ! 
"Who can control his fate ? 'tis not so now. — 
Be not afraid though you do see me weapon' d ; 
Here is my journey's end, here is my butt, 
And very sea-mark of my utmost sail. 
Do you go back dismay'd ? 'tis a lost fear ; 
Man but a rush against Othello's breast, 
And he retires ; — Where should Othello go ? — 
How dost thou look now ? O ill-starr'd wench ! 
Pale as thy smock ! when we shall meet at compt, 
This look of thine will hurl my soul from heaven, 
And fiends will snatch at it. Cold, cold, my 

girl ? 
Even like thy chastity. — 
O cursed, cursed slave ! — "Whip me, ye devils, 
Erom the possession of this heavenly sight ! 
Blow me about in winds ! roast me in sulphur ! 
Wash me in steep-down gulfs of liquid fire ! — 
O Desdemona ! Desdemona ! dead ? 
Dead? O! 0! 0! 

OTHELLO, A. 5, S. 2. 



THE SOLDIER'S HONOURABLE. 
POVERTY. 

I take all and your several visitations 
So kind to heart, 'tis not enough to give : 
Methinks, I could deal kingdoms to my friends, 



WILLIAM SSAKLSPEABE. 5 3 3 

And ne'er be weary. — Alcihiades, 

Thou art a soldier, therefore seldom rich. 

It comes in charity to thee : for all thy living 

Is 'mongst the dead; and all the lands thou 

hast 
Lie in a pitch' d field. 

TIMOX OF ATHEXS, A. 1, S. 2. 



THE SOLDIER HUSBAND'S DEATH. 

Soft you ; a word or two, before you go. 

I have done the state some service, and they 

know it ; 
No more of that : — I pray you, in your letters, 
When you shall these unlucky deeds relate, 
Speak of me as I am ; nothing extenuate, 
Nor set down aught in malice : then must you 

speak 
Of one, that lov'd not wisely, but too well ; 
Of one, not easily jealous, but, being wrought, 
Perplex' d in the extreme ; of one, whose hand, 
Like the base Indian, threw a pearl away, 
Eicher than all his tribe ; of one, whose subdu'd 

eyes, 
Albeit unused to the melting mood, 
Drop tears as fast as the Arabian trees, 
Their medicinal gum : Set you down this : 
And say, besides, — that in Aleppo once, 
"Where a malignant and a turban' d Turk 
Beat a Venetian, and traduc'd the state, 
I took by the throat the circumcised dog, 
And smote him — thus. 

OTHELLO, A. 5, S. 2. 



534 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

THE SONS BEARING THEIR 
FATHER'S CHARACTER. 

Richaed. I cannot joy, until I be resolv'd 
Where our right valiant father is become. 
I saw him in the battle range about ; 
And watch' d him how he singled Clifford forth. 
Methought, he bore him in the thickest troop, 
As doth a lion in a herd of neat : 
Or as a bear, encompass' d round with dogs ; 
Who having pinch' d a few, and made them cry, 
The rest stand all aloof, and bark at him. 
So far'd our father with his enemies ; 
So fled his enemies my warlike father ; 
Methinks, 'tis prize enough to be his son. 
See how the morning opes her golden gates, 
And takes her farewell of the glorious sun ! 
How well resembles it the prime of youth, 
Trimm'd like a younker prancing to his love ! 

Edwakd. Dazzle mine eyes, or do I see three 
suns? 

Rich. Three glorious suns, each one a perfect 
sun; 
Not separated with the racking clouds, 
But sever' d in a pale clear-shining sky. 
See, see ! they join, embrace, and seem to kiss, 
As if they vow'd some league inviolable : 
Now are they but one lamp, one light, one sun. 
In this the heaven figures some event. 

Edw. 'Tis wondrous strange, the like yet 
never heard of. 
I think, it cites us, brother, to the field ; 
That we, the sons of brave Plantagenet, 
Each one already blazing by our meeds, 
Should, notwithstanding, join our lights to- 
gether, 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEABE. 5 3 5 

And over-shine the earth, as this the world. 
Whate'er it bodes, henceforward will I bear 
Upon my target three fair shining suns. 

Eich. Nay, bear three daughters ; — by your 
leave I speak it, 
You love the breeder better than the male. 

K. HENRY VI., PART III., A. 2, S. 1. 



THE SOUL. 

Tott speak of him when he was less furnished, 
than now he is, with that which makes him both 
without and within. 

CYMBELINE, A. 1, S. 5. 



THE SOUL ALL IN ALL. 

Why, what should be the fear ? 
I do not set my life at a pin's fee ; 
And, for my soul, what can it do to that, 
Being a thing immortal as itself ? 

HAMLET, A. 1, S. 4. 



THE SOUL AT WAR W ITH SLEEP. 

Siisce Cassius first did whet me against Ccesar, 
I have not slept. 

Between the acting of a dreadful thing 
And the first motion, all the interim is 
Like a phantasma, or a hideous dream : 
The genius, and the mortal instruments 
Are then in council ; and the state of man, 
Like to a little kingdom, suffers then 
The nature of an insurrection. 

JULIUS CJESAR, A. 2, S. 1. 



536 TEE PHILOSOPHY OF 



THE SOUL IN DOUBT AND FEAR. 

To be, or not to be, that is the question : — 
"Whether 'tis nobler in the mind, to suffer 
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune • 
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, 
And, by opposing, end them? — To die, — to 

sleep, — 
No more ; — and, by a sleep, to say we end 
The heart-aehe, and the thousand natural shocks 
That flesh is heir to, — 'tis a consummation 
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die ; — to sleep ; — 
To sleep ! perchance to dream ; — ay, there's the 

rub; 
For in that sleep of death what dreams may 

come, 
"When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, 
Must give us pause : there's the respect, 
That makes calamity of so long life : 
For who would bear the whips and scorns of 

time, 
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's con- 
tumely, 
The pangs of despis'd love, the law's delay, 
The insolence of office, and the spurns 
That patient merit of the unworthy takes, 
"When he himself might his quietus make 
With a bare bodkin ? who would burdens bear, 
To grunt and sweat under a weary life ; 
But that the dread of something after death, — 
The undiscover'd country, from whose bourn 
No traveller returns, — puzzles the will, 
And makes us rather bear those ills we have, 
Than fly to others that we know not of ? 
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all ; 
And thus the native hue of resolution 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 5 3 7 

Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought ; 
And enterprizes of great pith and moment, 
With this regard, their currents turn awry, 
And lose the name of action. 

HAMLET, A. 3, S. 1. 



THE SOUL LIVES BEYOND THE 
GRAVE. 

Blood hath been shed ere now, i'the olden time, 
Ere human statute purg'd the gentle weal ; 
Ay, and since too, murders have been perform' d, 
Too terrible for the ear : the times have been, 
That, when the brains were out, the man would 

die, 
And there an end : but now, they rise again, 
With twenty mortal murders on their crowns, 
And push us from our stools : This is more 

strange 
Than such a murder is. 

MACBETH, A. 3, S. 4. 



THE SOUKS PALACE IN PERIL. 

He cannot long hold out these pangs ; 
The incessant care and labour of his mind 
Hath wrought the mure, that should confine 

it in, 
So thin, that life looks through, and will break 

out. 

K. HENRY 17., PART II., A. 4, S. 4. 



THE SOUL OF NOBILITY. 

No, by my soul ; I never in my life, 

Did hear a challenge urg'd more modestly, 



538 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Unless a brother should a brother dare 

To gentle exercise and proof of arms. 

He gave you all the duties of a man ; 

Trimm'd up your praises with a princely tongue; 

Spoke your deservings like a chronicle ; 

Making you ever better than his praise, 

By still dispraising praise, valued with you : 

And, which became him like a prince indeed, 

He made a blushing cital of himself ; 

And chid his truant youth with such a grace, 

As if he master' d there a double spirit, 

Of teaching, and of learning, instantly. 

There did he pause ; But let me tell the world, — 

If he outlive the envy of this day, 

England did never owe so sweet a hope, 

So much misconstrued in his wantonness. 

K. HENRY IV., PART I., A. 5, S. 2. 



THE SOUL OF THE STATE. 

The single and peculiar life is bound, 
With all the strength and armour of the mind, 
To keep itself from 'noyance ; but much more 
That spirit, upon whose weal depend and rest 
The lives of many. The cease of majesty 
Dies not alone ; but, like a gulf, doth draw 
"What's near it, with it : it is a massy wheel, 
Eix'd on the summit of the highest mount, 
To whose huge spokes ten thousand lesser things 
Are mortis' d and adjoin' d ; which, when it falls, 
Each small annexment, petty consequence, 
Attends the boist'rous ruin. Never alone 
Did the king sigh, but with a general groan. 

HAMLET, A. 3, S. 2. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 539 

THE SOUL KEQUIBES ITS PROPER 
LEVER WHILST HERE. 

Mat be, lie is not well : 

Infirmity doth still neglect all office, 

"Whereto our health is bound ; we are not our- 
selves, 

When nature, being oppress' d, commands the 
mind 

To suffer with the body : I'll forbear ; 

And am fallen out with my more headier will, 

To take the indispos'd and sickly fit 

Por the sound man. 

KING LEAR, A. 2, S. 4. 



THE SOUL SITS HIGH WHERE 
AUTHORITY SUPPORTS IT. 

K. John. Peace be to France; if France in 

peace permit 
Our just and lineal entrance to our own ! 
If not; bleed France, and peace ascend to heaven! 
Whiles we, God's wrathful agent, do correct 
Their proud contempt that beat his peace to 

heaven. 
K. Philip. Peace be to England; if that 

war return 
Prom France to England, there to live in peace! 
England we love ; and, for that England' } s sake, 
With burden of our armour here we sweat : 
This toil of ours should be a work of thine ; 
But thou from loving England art so far, 
That thou hast under-wrought his lawful king, 
Cut off the sequence of posterity, 
Outfaced infant state, and done a rape 
Upon the maiden virtue of the crown. 



54o THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Look here upon thy brother Geffrey's face ; — 
These eyes, these brows, were moulded out of his. 
This little abstract doth contain that large, 
"Which died in Geffrey ; and the hand of time 
Shall draw this brief into as huge a volume. 
That Geffrey was thy elder brother born, 
And this his son ; England was Geffrey's right, 
And this is Geffrey's : In the name of God, 
How comes it, then, that thou art call'd a king, 
When living blood doth in these temples beat, 
"Which owe the crown that thou o'er-masterest? 
K. Johist. Prom whom hast thou this great 

commission, France, 
To draw my answer from thy articles ? 

K. Phi. Prom that supernal Judge, that stirs 

good thoughts 
In any breast of strong authority, 
To look into the blots and stains of right. 
That Judge hath made me guardian to this boy : 
Under whose warrant, I impeach thy wrong ; 
And, by whose help, I mean to chastise it. 

KING JOHN, A. 2, S. 1. 



THE SPIRIT IN PURGATORY. 

I am thy father's spirit ; 
Doom'd for a certain term to walk the night ; 
And, for the day, confin'd to fast in fires, 
Till the foul crimes, done in my days of nature, 
Are burnt and purg'd away. But that I am 

forbid 
To tell the secrets of my prison-house, 
I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word 
"Would harrow up thy soul; freeze thy young 

blood ; 



WILLIAM SKAKJZSPEABU. 541 

Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their 

spheres ; 
Thy knotted and combined locks to part, 
And each particular hair to stand on end, 
Like quills upon the fretful porcupine : 
But this eternal blazon must not be 
To ears of flesh and blood. 

HAMLET, A. 1, S. 5. 



THE SPIEIT OF CONTRADICTION 
CONQUERED. 

Petetjchio. Come on, o' God's name; once 
more toward our fathers. 
Good Lord, how bright and goodly shines the 
moon! 
Kathaeiina.. The moon ! the sun ; it is not 

moonlight now. 
Pet. I say, it is the moon that shines so 

bright. 
Kate:. I know, it is the sun that shines so 

bright. 
Pet. Now, by my mother's son, and that's 
myself, 
It shall be moon, or star, or what I list, 
Or ere I journey to your father's house : — 
Go on, and fetch our horses back again. — 
Evermore cross'd, and cross'd : nothing but 
cross' d! 
Hoe. Say as he says, or we shall never go. 
Kath. Forward, I pray, since we have come 
so far, 
And be it moon, or sun, or what you please : 
And if you please to call it a rush candle, 
Henceforth I vow it shall be so for me. 



542 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Pet. I say, it is the moon. 

Kath. I know it is. 

Pet. Nay, then you lie; it is the blessed 

sun. 
Kath. Then, Grod be blessed, it is the blessed 
sun: 
But sun it is not, when you say it is not ; 
And the moon changes, even as your mind. 
What you will have it nam'd, even that it is ; 
And so it shall be so, for Katharine. 

Hob. PetrucMo, go thy ways; the field is 

won. 
Pet. Well, forward, forward : thus the bowl 
should run, 
And not unluckily against the bias. — 

TAMING OF THE SHREW, A. 4, S. 5. 



THE STAGE NATURE'S MIRROR 

Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced 
it to you, trippingly on the tongue : but if you 
mouth it, as many of our players do, I had as 
lief the town-crier spoke my lines. Nor do not 
saw the air too much with your hand, thus : but 
use all gently : for in the very torrent, tempest, 
and (as I may say) whirlwind of your passion, 
you must acquire and beget a temperance, that 
may give it smoothness. O, it offends me to the 
soul, to hear a robustious periwig-pated fellow 
tear a passion to tatters, to very rags, to split 
the ears of the ignorant ; who, for the most part 
are capable of nothing but inexplicable dumb 
shows, and noise: I would have such a fellow 
whipped for o'er-doing Termagant ; it out-herods 
Herod: pray you, avoid it. Be not too tame 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 543 

neither, but let your own discretion be your 
tutor : suit the action to the word, the word to 
the action; with this special observance, that 
you o'er-step not the modesty of nature ; for any 
thing so overdone is from the purpose of playing, 
whose end, both at the first, and now, was, and 
is, to hold, as 'twere, the mirror up to nature ; 
to show virtue her own feature, scorn her own 
image, and the very age and body of the time, 
his form and pressure. Now this, overdone, or 
come tardy off, though it make the unskilful 
laugh, cannot but make the judicious grieve; 
the censure of which one, must, in your approval, 
o'er-weigh a whole theatre of others. 0, there 
be players, that I have seen play, — and heard 
others praise, and that highly, — not to speak it 
profanely, that, neither having the accent of 
christians, nor the gait of christian, pagan, nor 
man, have so strutted, and bellowed, that I 
have thought some of nature's journeymen had 
made men, and not made them well, they imita- 
ted humanity so abominably. 

HAMLET, A. 2, S. 3. 



THE STATESMEN CHOOSE THE 
MEN— THE SOLDIERS FIGHT 
THE BATTLE. 

Ulysses. Nestor, 

I have a young conception in my brain, 

Be you my time to bring it to some shape. 

This 'tis : 

Blunt wedges rive hard knots : The seeded pride 

That hath to this maturity blown up 

In rank Achilles, must or now be cropp'd, 



S44 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Or, shedding, breed a nursery of like evil, 
To overbulk us all. 

This challenge that the gallant Hector sends, 
However it is spread in general name, 
Kelates in purpose only to Achilles. 

Nestor. The purpose is perspicuous even as 
substance, 
"Whose grossness little characters sum up : 
And, in the publication, make no strain, 
But that Achilles, were his brain as barren 
As banks of Libya, — though, Apollo knows, 
'Tis dry enough, — will, with great speed of 

judgment, 
Ay, with celerity, find Hector's purpose 
Pointing on him. 

TJltss. And wake him to answer, think you ? 

Nest. Tes, 

It is most meet ; Whom may you else oppose, 
That can from Hector bring those honours off, 
If not Achilles ? Though' t be a sportful combat, 
Yet in the trial much opinion dwells ; 
For here the Trojans taste our dear'st repute 
With their fin'st palate: And trust to me, 

Ulysses, 
Our imputation shall be oddly pois'd 
In this wild action : for the success, 
Although particular, shall give a scantling 
Of good or bad unto the general ; 
And in such indexes, although small pricks 
To their subsequent volumes, there is seen 
The baby figure of the giant mass 
Of things to come at large. It is suppos'd, 
He, that meets Hector, issues from our choice ; 
And choice, being mutual act of all our souls, 
Makes merit her election ; and doth boil, 
As 'twere from forth us all, a man distill'd 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEABE. 545 

Out of our virtues ; Who miscarrying, 

"What heart receives from hence a conquering 

part, 
To steal a strong opinion to themselves ? 
Which entertain' d, limbs are his instruments, 
In no less working, than are swords and bows 
Directive by the limbs. 

Ultss. Grive pardon to my speech ; — 
Therefore 'tis meet, Achilles meet not Sector. 
Let us, like merchants, show our foulest wares, 
And think, perchance, they'll sell ; if not, 
The lustre of the better shall exceed, 
By showing the worst first. Do not consent, 
That ever Hector and Achilles meet ; 
For both our honour and our shame, in this, 
Are dogg'd with two strange followers. 

Nest. I see them not with my old eyes; 

what are they ? 
Ultss. What glory our Achilles shares from 

Hector, 
Were he not proud, we all should share with 

him: 
But he already is too insolent ; 
And we were better parch in Africk sun, 
Than in the pride and salt scorn of his eyes, 
Should he 'scape Hector fair: If he were foil'd, 
Why, then we did our main opinion crush 
In taint of our best man. No, make a lottery ; 
And, by device, let blockish Ajax draw 
The sort to fight with Hector : Among ourselves, 
Give him allowance for the better man, 
For that will physick the great Myrmidon, 
Who broils in loud applause ; and make him fall 
His crest, that prouder than blue Iris bends. 
If the dull brainless Ajax come safe off, 
We'll dress him up in voices : If he fail, 
2n 



546 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Yet go we under our opinion still 
That we have better men. But, hit or miss, 
Our project's life this shape of sense assumes, — 
Ajax, employ' d, plucks down Achilles 9 plumes. 

Nest. Ulysses, 
-Now I begin to relish thy advice ; 
And I will give a taste of it forthwith 
To Agamemnon : go we to him straight. 
Two curs shall tame each other ; Pride alone 
Must tarre the mastiffs on, as 'twere their bone. 

TROILUS AND CRESSIDA, A. 1, S. 3. 



THE STATESMAN'S DIFFICULTY. 

If I am traduc'd by tongues, which neither 

know 
My faculties, nor person, yet will be 
The chronicles of my doing, — let me say, 
'Tis but the fate of place, and the rough brake 
That virtue must go through. We must not 

stint 
Our necessary actions, in the fear 
To cope malicious censurers ; which ever, 
As ravenous fishes, do a vessel follow 
That is new' trimm'd ; but benefit no further 
Than vainly longing. What we oft do best, 
By sick interpreters, once weak ones, is 
Not ours, or not allow' d; what worst, as oft, 
Hitting a grosser quality, is cried up 
For our best act. If we shall stand still, 
In fear our motion will be mock'd or carp'd at, 
"We should take root here where we sit, or sit 
State statues only. 

K. HENRY VIII., A. 1, S. 2. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 547 

THE STATESMAN'S HARANGUE. 

Tor cloudy princes, and heart-sorrowing peers, 
That bear this mutual heavy load of moan, 
Now cheer each other in each other's love : 
Though we have spent our harvest of this king, 
We are to reap the harvest of his son. 
The broken rancour of your high swoln hearts, 
But lately splinted, knit, and join'd together, 
Must gently be preserv'd, cherish'd, and kept: 
Me seemeth good, that, with some little train, 
Forthwith from Ludlow the young prince be 

feteh'd 
Hither to London, to be crown' d our king. 
Marry, my lord, lest by a multitude, 
The new-heal'd wound of malice should break 

out; 
Which would be so much the more dangerous, 
By how much the estate is green, and yet 

ungovern'd : 
Where every horse bears his commanding rein, 
And may direct his course as please himself, 
As well the fear of harm, as harm apparent, 
In my opinion, ought to be prevented. 

K. RICHARD III., A. 2,S.2. 



THE REPUBLICAN'S APOLOGY FOR 
DESTROYING THE HERO. 

Be patient till the last. Romans, country- 
men, and lovers! hear me for my cause; and 
be silent, that you may hear: believe me for 
mine honour ; and have respect to mine honour, 
that you may believe : censure me in your wis- 



548 TRIE PHILOSOPHY OF 

dom ; and awake your senses, that you may the 
better judge. If there be any in this assembly, 
any dear friend of Ccesar's, to him I say, that 
Brutus' love to Caesar was no less than his. If 
then that friend demand, why Brutus rose 
against Ccesar, this is my answer, — Not that I 
loved Ccesar less, but that I loved Borne more. 
Had you rather Ccesar were living, and die all 
slaves ; than that Ccesar were dead, to live all 
free men ? As Ccescvr loved me, I weep for him ; 
as he was fortunate, I rejoice at it ; as he was 
valiant, I honour him ; but, as he was ambitious, 
I slew him : There is tears, for his love ; joy, for 
his fortune ; honour, for his valour ; and death, 
for his ambition. Who is here so base, that 
would be a bondman ? If any, speak ; for him 
have I offended. Who is here so rude, that 
would not be a Roman ? If any, speak ; for him 
have I offended. Who is here so vile, that will 
not love his country ? If any, speak ; for him 
have I offended. I have done no more to Ccesar, 
than you should do to Brutus. The question of 
his death is enrolled in the Capitol; his glory 
not extenuated, wherein he was worthy ; nor his 
offences enforced, for which he suffered death. 
Here comes his body, mourn' d by Mark Antony ; 
who, though he had no hand in his death, shall 
receive the benefit of his dying, a place in the 
commonwealth; As which of you shall not? 
With this I depart; That, as I slew my best 
lover for the good of Bonie, I have the same 
dagger for myself, when it shall please my 
country to need my death. 

JULIUS CiESAK, A. 3, S. 2. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 549 

THE SUITOR 

Antipholtjs. It is thyself, mine own self's 
better part ; 
Mine eye's clear eye, my dear heart's dearer 

heart ; 
My food, my fortune, and my sweet hope's aim, 
My sole earth's heaven, and my heaven's claim. 
Thee will I love, and with thee lead my life ; 
Thou hast no husband yet, nor I no wife : 
Grive me thy hand. 

Ltjciana. O, soft, sir, hold you still ; 

I'll fetch my sister, to get her good will. 

COMEDY OF ERRORS, A. 3, S. 2. 



THE TERRORS OF CIVIL WAR. 

Alarum, Enter a Son that has hilled his Father, 
dragging in the dead body. 
Sois*. Ill blows the wind, that profits no- 
body. — 
This man, whom hand to hand I slew in fight, 
May be possessed with some store of crowns : 
And I, that haply take them from him now, 
May yet ere night yield both my life and them 
To some man else, as this dead man doth me. — 
"Who's this ? — O Grod! it is my father's face, 
Whom in this conflict I unawares have kill'd. 
O heavy times, begetting such events ! 
Erom London by the king was I press' d forth ; 
My father, being the earl of Warwick's man, 
Came on the part of York, press' d by his master; 
And I, who at his hands receiv'd my life, 
Have by my hands of life bereaved him. — 
Pardon me, Grod, I knew not what I did ! — 



550 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

And pardon, father, for I knew not thee ! — 
My tears shall wipe away these bloody marks ; 
And no more words, till they have flow'd their 

fill. 
K. Henet. piteous spectacle ! bloody 

times ! 
"Whilst lions war, and battle for their dens, 
Poor harmless lambs abide their enmity. — 
Weep, wretched man, I'll aid thee, tear for tear ; 
And let our hearts, and eyes, like civil war, 
Be blind with tears, and break o'ercharg'd with 

grief. 
Enter a Father, who has hilled his Son, with the 
body in his arms. 
Father. Thou that so stoutly hast resisted 

me, 
Give me thy gold, if thou hast any gold ; 
For I have bought it with an hundred blows. — 
But let me see : — is this our foeman's face ? 
Ah, no, no, no, it is mine only son ! — 
Ah, boy, if any life be left in thee, 
Throw up thine eye ; see, see, what showers 

arise, 
Blown with the windy tempest of my heart, 
Upon thy wounds, that kill mine eye and 

heart ! — 
0, pity, Grod, this miserable age ! — 
What stratagems, how fell, how butcherly, 
Erroneous, mutinous, and unnatural, 
This deadly quarrel daily doth beget ! — 
O boy, thy father gave thee life too soon, 
And hath bereft thee of thy life too late ! 

K. Hek. Woe above woe ! grief more than 

common grief ! 
O, that my death would stay these ruthful 

deeds ! — 



WILLIAM SHAKESPJSABH. 5 5 1 

O pity, pity, gentle heaven, pity ! — 

The red rose and the white are on his face, 

The fatal colours of our striving houses : 

The one, his purple blood right well resembles ; 

The other, his pale cheeks, methinks, present : 

"Wither one rose, and let the other nourish ! 

If you contend, a thousand lives must wither. 

Son. How will my mother, for a father's 
death, 
Take on with me, and ne'er be satisfied ? 

Path. How will my wife, for slaughter of 
my son, 
Shed seas of tears, and ne'er be satisfied ? 

K. Heist. How will the country, for these 
woful chances, 
Misthink the king, and not be satisfied ? 

Son. "Was ever son, so ru'd a father's death ? 

Path. "Was, ever father, so bemoan' d a son ? 

K. Hen. Was ever king, so griev'd for sub- 
jects' woe ? 
Much is your sorrow ; mine, ten times so much. 

Path. These arms of mine shall be thy 
winding-sheet ; 
My heart, sweet boy, shall be thy sepulchre ; 
Tor from my heart thine image ne'er shall go. 
My sighing breast shall be thy funeral bell ; 
And so obsequious will thy father be, 
Sad for the loss of thee, having no more, 
As Priam was for all his valiant sons. 
I'll bear thee hence; and let them fight that 

will, 
For I have murder' d where I should not kill. 

K. HENRY VI., PART III., A. 2, S. 5. 



552 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 



THE TIRED SPIRIT. 

Vex not his ghost : 0, let him pass ! he hates 

him, 
That would upon the rack of this rough world 
Stretch him out longer. 

KING LEAR, A. 5, S. 3. 



THE TITLE, LORDS, THE TITLE ! 

K. Henby. Think' st thou, that I will leave 
my kingly throne, 
"Wherein my grandsire, and my father, sat ? 
No : first shall war unpeople this my realm ; 
Ay, and their colours — often borne in France ; 
And now in England, to our heart's great 

sorrow, — 
Shall be my winding-sheet. — Why faint you, 

lords ? 
My title's good, and better far than his. 

Waewick. But prove it, Henry, and thou 

shalt be king. 
K. Hen. Henry the Fourth by conquest got 

the crown. 
Yoke:. 'Twas by rebellion against his king. 
K. Hen. I know not what to say ; my title's 
weak. {Aside. 

Tell me, may not a king adopt an heir ? 
Tobk. What then ? 

K. Hen. An if he may, then am I lawful 
king: 
For Bichard, in the view of many lords, 
Resign' d the crown to Henry the Fourth ; 
Whose heir my father was, and I am his. 

Yoek. He rose against him, being his 
sovereign, 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 5 5 3 

And made him to resign his crown perforce. 
War. Suppose, my lords, he did it un- 

constrain'd, 
Think you, 'twere prejudicial to his crown ? 
Exeter. No ; for he could not so resign his 

crown, 
But that the next heir should succeed and 

reign. 
K. Hen. Art thou against us, duke of 

Exeter ? 
Exe. His is the right, and therefore pardon 

me. 
York. Why whisper you, my lords, and 

answer not ? 
Exe. My conscience tells me, he is lawful 

king. 

K. HENRY VI., PART III., A. 1, S. 1. 



THE TRIALS OF HIGH POSITION. 

My blood hath been too cold and temperate, 
Unapt to stir at these indignities, 
And you have found me ; for, accordingly, 
Tou tread upon my patience : but, be sure, 
I will from henceforth rather be myself, 
Mighty, and to be fear'd, than my condition, 
Which hath been smooth as oil, soft as young 

down, 
And therefore lost that title of respect, 
Which the proud soul ne'er pays, but to the 

proud. 
Worcester, get thee gone, for I see danger 
And disobedience in thine eye : 0, sir, 
Tour presence is too bold and peremptory, 
And majesty might never yet endure 



554 TSE PHILOSOPHY OF 

The moody frontier of a servant brow. 

You have good leave to leave us; when we 

need 
Tour use and counsel, we shall send for you. 

K. HENRY IV., PART I., A. 1, S. 3. 



THE TRIUMPH OF INNOCENCE. 

Aethtje. Good morrow, Hubert* 

Htjbebt. Good morrow, little prince. 

Aeth. As little prince (having so great a 
title 
To be more prince,) as may be. — Tou are sad. 

Hub. Indeed, I have been merrier. 

Aeth. Mercy on me ! 

Methinks, no body should be sad but I : 
Yet, I remember, when I was in France, 
Young gentlemen would be as sad as night, 
Only for wantonness. By my Christendom, 
So I were out of prison, and kept sheep, 
I should be as merry as the day is long ; 
And so I would be here, but that I doubt 
My uncle practises more harm to me : 
He is afraid of me, and I of him : 
Is it my fault that I was Geffrey *s son ? 
No, indeed, is't not ; And I would to heaven, 
I were your son, so you would love me, Hubert. 

Hub. If I talk to him, with his innocent 
prate 
He will awake my mercy, which lies dead : 
Therefore 1 will be sudden, and despatch. [Aside. 

Aeth. Are you sick, Hubert ? you look pale 
to-day : 
In sooth, I would you were a little sick ; 
That I might sit all night, and watch with you : 
I warrant, I love you more than you do me. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 5 5 5 

Hub. His words do take possession of my 

bosom. — 
Bead here, young Arthur. [Showing a paper, ,] 

How now, foolish rheum ! [Aside. 

Turning dispiteous torture out of door ! 
I must be brief ; lest resolution drop 

Out at mine eyes, in tender womanish tears. 

Can you not read it ? is it not fair writ ? 

Arth. Too fairly, Hubert, for so foul effect : 
Must you with hot irons burn out both mine 

eyes? 
Hue. Young boy, I must. 
Arth. And will you ? 

Hub. And I will. 

Arth. Have you the heart? When your 

head did but ache, 
I knit my handkerchief about your brows, 
(The best I had, a princess wrought it me,) 
And I did never ask it you again : 
And with my hand at midnight held your 

head; 
And, like the watchful minutes to the hour, 
Still and anon cheer' d up the heavy time ; 
Saying, "What lack you ? and, "Where lies your 

grief ? 
Or, what good love may I perform for you ? 
Many a poor man's son would have lain still, 
And ne'er have spoke a loving word to you ; 
But you at your sick service had a prince. 
Nay, you may think, my love was crafty love, 
And call it, cunning ; Do, an if you will : 
If heaven be pleas'd that you must use me ill, 
Why, then you must. — Will you put out mine 

eyes? 
These eyes, that never did, nor never shall, 
So much as frown on you ? 



556 THE PHILOSOPHY OP 

Hub. I have sworn to do it ; 

And with hot irons must I burn them out. 

Arth. Ah, none, but in this iron age, would 
doit! 
The iron of itself, though heat red-hot, 
Approaching near these eyes, would drink my 

tears, 
And quench his fiery indignation, 
Even in the matter of mine innocence : 
Nay, after that, consume away in rust, 
But for containing fire to harm mine eye. 
Are you more stubborn-hard than hammer' d 

iron? 
An if an angel should have come to me, 
And told me, Hubert should put out mine eyes, 
I would not have believ'd no tongue, but Hubert's. 

Hub. Come forth. [Stamps. 

Re-enter Attendants, with cords, irons, Sfc. 

Do as I bid you do. 

Arth. O, save me, Hubert, save me! my 

eyes are out, 
Even with the fierce looks of these bloody men. 
Hub. Give me the iron, I say, and bind him 

here. 
Arth. Alas! what need you be so boist'rous- 

rough ? 
I will not struggle, I will stand stone-still. 
For heaven's sake, Hubert, let me not be bound! 
Nay, hear me, Hubert ! drive these men away, 
And I will sit as quiet as a lamb ; 
I will not stir, nor wince, nor speak a word, 
Nor look upon the iron angerly : 
Thrust but these men away, and I'll forgive 

you, 
Whatever torment you do put me to. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEABJE. 5 5 7 

Hub. Go, stand within ; let me alone with 

him. 
1st Attendant. I am best pleas'd to be from 
such a deed. [Exeunt Attendants. 

Arth. Alas! I then have chid away my 
friend ; 
He hath a stern look, but a gentle heart : — 
Let him come back, that his compassion may 
Give life to yours. 
Hub. Come, boy, prepare yourself. 

Arth. Is there no remedy ? 
Hub. None, but to lose your eyes. 

Arth. O heaven! — that there were but a 
mote in yours, 
A grain, a dust, a gnat, a wand'ring hair, 
Any annoyance in that precious sense ! 
Then, feeling what small things are boist'rous 

there, 
Tour vile intent must needs seem horrible. 
Hub. Is this your promise ? go to, hold your 

tongue. 
Arth. Hubert, the utterance of a brace of 
tongues 
Must needs want pleading for a pair of eyes : 
Let me not hold my tongue ; let me not, Hubert! 
Or, Hubert, if you will, cut out my tongue, 
So I may keep mine eyes ; O, spare mine eyes ; 
Though to no use, but still to look on you ! 
Lo, by my troth, the instrument is cold, 
And would not harm me. 

Hub. I can heat it, boy. 

Arth. No, in good sooth ; the fire is dead 
with grief, 
Being create for comfort, to be us'd 
In undeserv'd extremes : See else yourself: 
There is no malice in this burning coal ; 



5 5 8 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

The breath of heaven hath blown his spirit out, 
And strew' d repentant ashes on his head. 

Hub. But with my breath I can revive it, 
boy. 

Aeth. And if you do, you will but make it 
blush, 
And glow with shame of your proceedings, 

Hubert : 
Nay, it, perchance, will sparkle in your eyes ; 
And, like a dog that is compelTd to fight, 
Snatch at his master that doth tarre him on. 
All things, that you should use to do me wrong, 
Deny their office : only you do lack 
That mercy, which fierce fire, and iron, extends, 
Creatures of note, for mercy-lacking uses. 

Hub. Well, see to live; I will not touch 
thine eyes 
For all the treasure that thine uncle owes : 
Yet am I sworn, and I did purpose, boy, 
With this same very iron to burn them out. 

Aeth. O, now you look like Hubert! all 
this while 
Tou were disguised. 

Hub. Peace : no more. Adieu ; 

Tour uncle must not know but you are dead : 
I'll fill these dogged spies with false reports. 
And, pretty child, sleep doubtless, and secure, 
That Hubert, for the wealth of all the world, 
Will not offend thee. 

Aeth. O heaven ! I thank you, Hubert. 

Hub. Silence ; no more : Gro closely in with 
me. 
Much danger do I undergo for thee. 

KING JOHN, A. 4, S. 1, 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. $S9 

THE TROUBLES OF THE SOUL 
BEYOND NATURAL AID. 

Macbeth. Canst thou not minister to a 
mind diseas'd; 
Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow ; 
Raze out the written troubles of the brain ; 
And, with some sweet oblivious antidote, 
Cleanse the stufFd bosom of that perilous stuff, 
Which weighs upon the heart ? 

Doctoe. Therein the patient 

Must minister to himself. 

MACBETH, A. 5, S. 3. 



THE TRUE FRIEND OF KINGS. 

Peace, peace, my lords, and give experience 

tongue. 
They do abuse the king, that flatter him : 
For flattery is the bellows blows up sin ; 
The thing the which is flatter' d, but a spark, 
To which that breath gives heat and stronger 

glowing ; 
Whereas reproof, obedient, and in order, 
Fits kings, as they are men, for they may err. 
When signior Sooth here does proclaim a peace, 
He flatters you, makes war upon your life : 
Prince, pardon me, or strike me, if you please ; 
I cannot be much lower than my knees. 

PERICLES, A. 1, S.2. 



THE TRUE STRENGTH IN WAR 

OR PEACE. 

Every man's conscience is a thousand swords, 
To fight against that bloody homicide. 



560 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

He hath no friends, but who are friends for fear ; 
Which, in his dearest need, will fly from him. 
Then, in G-od's name, march : 
True hope is swift, and flies with swallow's 

wings, 
Kings it makes gods, and meaner creatures 

kings. 

K. EICHARD III., A. 5, S. 2. 

I 

THE OWNERS OF THE ANCIENT 
WORLD ON THE LAW OF PART- 
NERSHIP. 

Antony. Octavius, I have seen more 
than you : 

And though we lay these honours on this man, 
To ease ourselves of divers slanderous loads, 
He shall but bear them as the ass bears gold, 
To groan and sweat under the business, 
Either led or driven, as we point the way ; 
And having brought our treasure where we will, 
Then take we down his load, and turn him off, 
Like to the empty ass, to shake his ears, 
And graze in commons. 

Octavius. You may do your will ; 

But he's a tried and valiant soldier. 

Ant. So is my horse, Octavius; and, for 
that, 
I do appoint him store of provender. 
It is a creature that I teach to fight, 
To wind, to stop, to run directly on ; 
His corporal motion govern' d by my spirit. 
And, in some taste, is Lepidus but so ; 
He must be taught, and train' d, and bid go 
forth: 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 561 

A barren-spirited fellow ; one that feeds 

On objects, arts, and imitations ; 

Which, out of use, and stal'd by other men, 

Begin his fashion : Do not talk of him, 

But as a property. And now, Octavius, 

Listen great things. — Brutus and Cassius 

Are levying powers: we must straight make 

head: 
Therefore, let our alliance be combin'd, 
Our best friends made, and our best means 

stretch' d out ; 
And let us presently go sit in council, 
How covert matters may be best disclos'd, 
And open perils surest answered. 

JULIUS OESAR, A. 4, S. 1. 



THE POWER OF HABIT. 

theow away the worser part of it, 

And live the purer with the other half. 

Good night : but go not to my uncle's bed ; 

Assume a virtue, if you have it not. 

That monster, custom, who all sense doth eat 

Of habit's devil, is angel yet in this ; 

That to the use of actions fair and good 

He likewise gives a frock, or livery, 

That aptly is put on : Refrain to night : 

And that shall lend a kind of easiness 

To the next abstinence : the next more easy : 

For use almost can change the stamp of nature, 

And either curb the devil, or throw him out 

With wondrous potency. 

HAMLET, h, 3, S. 4. 



2 O 



562 THJEJ PHILOSOPHY OF 

THE TWO QUEENS— NIGHT AND 

BEAUTY. 

HANG there, my verse, in witness of my love : 
And, thou, thrice-crowned queen of night, 
survey 
"With thy chaste eye, from thy pale sphere 



Thy huntress' name, that my full life doth 



O Bosalind ! these trees shall be my hooks, 
And in their barks my thoughts I'll character ; 

That every eye, which in this forest looks, 
Shall see thy virtue witness' d every where. 

Run, run, Orlando ; carve, on every tree, 

The fair, the chaste, and unexpressive she. 

AS YOU LIKE IT, A. 3, S. 2. 



THE TYRANT'S LAST MOMENTS. 

Macbeth. Hang out our banners on the 

outward walls ; 
The cry is still, They come ! Our castle's strength 
Will laugh a siege to scorn : here let them lie, 
Till famine, and the ague, eat them up. 
Were they not forc'd with those that should be 

ours, 
We might have met them dareful, beard to 

beard, 
And beat them backward home. What is that 

noise ? 
Set ton. It is the cry of women, my good 

lord. 
Macb. I have almost forgot the taste of 

fears. 
The time has been, my senses would have cool'd 



To hear a night-shriek ; and my fell of hair 

"Would at a dismal treatise rouse, and stir 

As life were in't : I have supp'd full with 

horrors ; 
Direness, familiar to my slaught'rous thoughts, 
Cannot once start me. — Wherefore was that 
cry? 

Set. The queen, my lord, is dead. 

Macb. She should have died hereafter ; 
There would have been a time for such a word. — 
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow 
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, 
To the last syllable of recorded time ; 
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools 
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle ! 
Life's but a walking shadow ; a poor player, 
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, 
And then is heard no more : it is a tale 
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, 
Signifying nothing. 

MACBETH, A. 5, S. 5. 



THE UBIQUITY OF THE MIND. 

My wind, cooling my broth, 
Would blow me to an ague, when I thought 
W hat harm a wind too great might do at sea. 
I should not see the sandy hour-glass run, 
But I should think of shallows and of flats ; 
And see my wealthy Andrew dock'd in sand, 
Vailing her high-top lower than her ribs, 
To kiss her burial. Should I go to church, 
And see the holy edifice of stone, 
And not bethink me straight of dangerous rocks ? 
Which touching but my gentle vessel's side, 



564 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

"Would scatter all her spices on the stream ; 
Enrobe the roaring waters with my silks ; 
And, in a word, but even now worth this, 
And now worth nothing? Shall I have the 

thought 
To think on this ; and shall I lack the thought, 
That such a thing, bechanc'd, would make me 

sad? 

MERCHANT OF VENICE, A. 1, S. 1. 



TEUTH NOT ALWAYS PLEASANT. 

Thy truth then be thy dower : 
Eor, by the sacred radiance of the sun ; 
The mysteries of Hecate, and the night ; 
By all the operations of the orbs, 
Erom whom we do exist, and cease to be ; 
Here I disclaim all my paternal care, 
Propinquity and property of blood, 
And as a stranger to my heart and me 
Hold thee, from this, for ever. 

KING LEAR, A. 1, S. 1. 



THE UNION OF NATUEE AND AET. 

The barge she sat in, like a burnish'd throne, 
Burn'd on the water : the poop was beaten gold ; 
Purple the sails, and so perfumed, that 
The winds were love-sick with them: the oars 

were silver ; 
Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and 

made 
The water, which they beat, to follow faster, 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 565 

As amorous of their strokes. For her own 

person, 
It beggar' d all description: she did lie 
In her pavilion, (cloth of gold, of tissue,) 
O'er-picturing that Venus, where we see, 
The fancy out-work nature : on each side her, 
Stood pretty dimpled boys, like smiling Cupids, 
"With divers colour' d fans, whose wind did seem 
To glow the delicate cheeks which they did cool, 
And what they undid, did. 
Her gentlewomen, like the Nereides, 
So many mermaids, tended her i'the eyes, 
And made their bends adornings : at the helm 
A seeming mermaid steers ; the silken tackle 
Swell with the touches of those flower-soft hands, 
That yarely frame the office. From the barge 
A strange invisible perfume hits the sense 
Of the adjacent wharfs. The city cast 
Her people out upon her ; and Antony, 
Enthron'd i'the market-place, did sit alone, 
"Whistling to the air ; which, but for vacancy, 
Had gone to gaze on Cleopatra too, 
And made a gap in nature. 
Upon her landing, Antony sent to her, 
Invited her to supper : she replied, 
It should be better, he became her guest ; 
"Which she entreated : our courteous Antony, 
Whom ne'er the word of No woman heard speak, 
Being barber'd ten times o'er, goes to the feast ; 
And, for his ordinary, pays his heart, 
For what his eyes eat only. 

I saw her once 
Hop forty paces through the publick street : 
And having lost her breath, she spoke, and 

panted, 
That she did make defect, perfection, 



$66 THJE PHILOSOPHY OF 

And, breathless, power breathe forth. 

Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale 

Her infinite variety : Other women 

Cloy th' appetites they feed; but she makes 

hungry, 
Where most she satisfies. For vilest things 
Become themselves in her. 

ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA, A. 2, S. 2. 



THE UNITY OF FAITH WHERE 

TRUE LOVE LIVES. 

"Whek Proteus cannot love where he's belov'd. 
Read over Julia's heart, thy first best love, 
For whose dear sake thou didst then rend thy 

faith 
Into a thousand oaths ; and all those oaths 
Descended into perjury, to love me. 
Thou hast no faith left now, unless thou had'st 

two, 
And that's far worse than none; better have 

none 
Than plural faith, which is too much by one : 
Thou counterfeit to thy true friend ! 

TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA, A. 5, S. 4. 



THE UNSEASONED IN TIME OF 
DANGER. 

The devil damn thee black, thou cream-fac'd 

loon, 
Where got'st thou that goose look ? 
Go prick thy face, and over-red thy fear, 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 567 

Thou lily-liver' d boy. "What soldiers, patch ? 
Death of thy soul ! those linen cheeks of thine 
Are counsellors to fear. 

MACBETH, A. 5, S. 3. 



THE UNSOCIAL. 

Fye, thou art a churl ; you have got a humour 

there 
Does not become a man, 'tis much to blame : — 
They say, my lords, that ir a furor brevis est, 
But yond' man's ever angry. 
Go, let him have a table by himself; 
For he does neither affect company, 
Nor is he fit for it, indeed. 

TIMON OF ATHENS, A. 1, S. 2. 



THE UTOPIA OF COURTSHIP. 

I do much wonder, that one man, seeing how 
much another man is a fool when he dedicates 
his behaviours to love, will, after he hath laughed 
at such shallow follies in others, become the 
argument of his own scorn, by falling hi love : 
And such a man is Claudio. I have knoAvn, 
when there was no musick with him but the 
drum and fife ; and now had he rather hear the 
tabor and the pipe: I have known, when he 
would have walked ten mile afoot, to see a good 
armour ; and now will he lie ten nights awake, 
carving the fashion of a new doublet. He was 
wont to speak plain, and to the purpose, like an 
honest man, and a soldier ; and now is he turn'd 
orthographer ; his words are a very fantastical 
banquet, just so many strange dishes. May I 



be so converted, and see with these eyes? I 
cannot tell ; I think not : I will not be sworn, 
but love may transform me to an oyster; but 
I'll take my oath on it, till he have made an 
oyster of me, he shall never make me such a fool. 
One woman is fair ; yet I am well : another is 
wise; yet I am well: another virtuous; yet I 
am well : but till all graces be in one woman, 
one woman shall not come in my grace. Bich, 
she shall be, that's certain; wise, or I'll none; 
virtuous, or I'll never cheapen her ; fair, or I'll 
never look on her ; mild, or come not near me ; 
noble, or not I for an angel ; of good discourse, 
an excellent musician, and her hair shall be of 
what colour it please God. 

MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING, A. 2, S. 3. 



THE VIRTUOUS WIFE'S ANGUISH. 

good Iago, 
What shall I do to win my lord again ? 
Good friend, go to him; for, by this light of 

heaven, 
I know not how I lost him. Here I kneel : 
If e'er my will did trespass 'gainst his love, 
Either in discourse of thought, or actual deed ; 
Or that mine eyes, mine ears, or any sense, 
Delighted them in any other form ; 
Or that I do not yet, and ever did, 
And ever will, — though he do shake me off 
To beggarly divorcement, — love him dearly, 
Comfort forswear me! Unkindness may do 

much; 
And his unkindness may defeat my life, 
But never taint my love. 

OTHELLO, A. 4, S. 2. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 569 



THE VIRTUOUS WIFE'S DEFENCE. 

Since what I am to say, must be but that 

Which contradicts my accusation ; and 

The testimony on my part, no other 

But what comes from myself; it shall scarce 

boot me 
To say, Not guilty ; mine integrity, 
Being counted falsehood, shall, as I express it, 
Be so receiv'd. But thus, — If powers divine 
Behold our human actions, (as they do,) 
I doubt not then, but innocence shall make 
False accusation blush, and tyranny 
Tremble at patience. — Tou, my lord, best know, 
(Who least wall seem to do so,) my past life 
Hath been as continent, as chaste, as true, 
As I am now unhappy ; which is more 
Than history can pattern, though devis'd, 
And play'd, to take spectators: For behold 

me, — 
A fellow of the royal bed, which owe 
A moiety of the throne, a great king's daughter, 
The mother to a hopeful prince, — here standing, 
To prate and talk for life, and honour, 'fore 
Who please to come and hear. For life, I prize 

it, 
As I weigh grief, which I would spare: for 

honour, 
'Tis a derivative from me to mine, 
And only that I stand for. I appeal 
To your own conscience, sir, before Policcenes 
Came to your court, how I was in your grace, 
How merited to be so ; since he came, 
With what encounter so uncurrent I 
Have strain' d, to appear thus : if one jot beyond 
The bound of honour ; or, in act, or will, 



570 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

That way inclining : harden' d be the hearts 

Of all that hear me, and my near'st of kin 

Cry, Eye upon my grave ! For Polixenes, 

(With whom I am accus'd,) I do confess, 

I lov'd him, as in honour he requir'd ; 

"With such a kind of love, as might become 

A lady like me ; with a love, even such, 

So, and no other, as yourself commanded : 

Which not to have done, I think, had been in me 

Both disobedience and ingratitude, 

To you, and toward your friend ; whose love had 

spoke, 
Even since it could speak, from an infant, freely, 
That it was yours. Now, for conspiracy, 
I know not how it tastes ; though it be dish'd 
For me to try how : all I know of it 
Is, that Camillo was an honest man ; 
And, why he left your court, the gods them- 
selves, 
Wotting no more than I, are ignorant. 

Sir, spare your threats ; 
The bug, which you would fright me with, I 

seek. 
To me can life be no commodity : 
The crown and comfort of my life, your favour, 
I do give lost ; for I do feel it gone, 
But know not how it went : My second joy, 
And first-fruits of my body, from his presence, 
I am barr'd, like one infectious : My third 

comfort, 
Starr'd most unluckily, is from my breast, 
The innocent milk in its most innocent mouth, 
Haled out to murder : Myself on every post 
Proclaim' d a strumpet ; with immodest hatred, 
The child-bed privilege denied, which 'longs 
To women of all fashion : — Lastly, hurried 



Here to this place, i'the open air, before 
I have got strength of limit. Now, my liege, 
Tell me what blessings I have here alive, 
That I shonld fear to die ? Therefore, proceed. 

But yet hear this; mistake me not; No! 

life, 
I prize it not a straw : — but for mine honour, 
(Which I would free.) if I shall be condemn' d 
TJpon surmises ; all proofs sleeping else, 
But what your jealousies awake ; I tell you 
'Tis rigour, and not law. — Tour honours all, 
I do refer me to the oracle : 
Apollo be my judge. 
The emperor of Russia was my father : 
O, that he were alive, and here beholding 
His daughter's trial! that he did but see 
The flatness of my misery ; yet with eyes 
Of pity, not revenge ! 

winter's tale, a. 3, s.2. 



THE WARRIOR AND THE DANDY. 

My liege, I did deny no prisoners. 

But, I remember, when the fight was done, 

"When I was dry with rage, and extreme toil, 

Breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword, 

Came there a certain lord, neat, trimly dress' d, j 

Fresh as a bridegroom ; and his chin, new reap'd, 

Show'd like a stubble-land at harvest-home ; 

He was perfumed like a milliner ; 

And 'twixt his finger and his thumb he held 

A pouncet-box, which ever and anon 

He gave his nose, and took't away again ; 

Who, therewith angry, when it next came there, 
Took it in snuff: — and still he snail' d and talk'd ; 
And, as the soldiers bore dead bodies by, 



572 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

He call'd them — untaught knaves, unmannerly, 

To bring a slovenly unhandsome corse 

Betwixt the wind and his nobility. 

"With many holyday and lady terms 

He question' d me : among the rest, demanded 

My prisoners, in your majesty's behalf. 

I then, all smarting, with my wounds being cold, 

To be so pester' d with a popinjay, 

Out of my grief and my impatience, 

Answer' d neglectingly, I know not what ; 

He should, or he should not ; — for he made me 

mad, 
To see him shine so brisk, and smell so sweet, 
And talk so like a waiting-gentlewoman, 
Of guns, and drums, and wounds, (God save the 

mark !) 
And telling me, the sovereign'st thing on earth 
Was parmaceti, for an inward bruise ; 
And that it was great pity, so it was, 
That villainous salt-petre should be digg'd 
Out of the bowels of the harmless earth, 
Which many a good tall fellow had destroy'd 
So cowardly ; and, but for these vile guns, 
He would himself have been a soldier. 
This bald unjointed chat of his, my lord, 
I answer' d indirectly, as I said ; 
And, I beseech you, let not his report 
Come current for an accusation, 
Betwixt my love and your high majesty. 

K. HENRY IV., PART I., A. 1, S. 3. 



THE WARRIOR'S ANGER. 

All the contagion of the south light on you, 
You shames of Borne ! — you herd of — Boils and 
plagues 



Plaster you o'er ; tliat you may be abhorr'd 
Further than seen, and one infect another 
Against the wind a mile ! You souls of geese, 
That bear the shapes of men, how have you run 
From slaves that apes would beat ? Pluto and 

hell! 
All hurt behind ; backs red, and faces pale 
"With flight and agued fear I Mend, and charge 

home, 
Or, by the fires of heaven, I'll leave the foe, 
And make my wars on you : look to't : Come on ; 
If you'll stand fast, we'll beat them to their 

wives, 
As they us to our trenches followed. 

CORIOLANUS, A. 1, S. 4. 



THE WARRIOR'S DEATH. 

Melot. Lead me to the revolts of England 
here. 

Salisbury. "When we were happy, we had 
other names. 

Pembroke. It is the count Melun. 

Sal. Wounded to death. 

Mel. Ply, noble English, you are bought 
and sold ; 
Unthread the rude eye of rebellion, 
And welcome home again discarded faith. 
Seek out king John, and fall before his feet ; 
Eor, if the French be lords of this loud day, 
He means to recompense the pains you take, 
By cutting off your heads : Thus hath he sworn, 
And I with him, and many more with me, 
Upon the altar at Saint Edmund 's-Bury ; 
Even on that altar, where we swore to you 
Dear amity and everlasting love. 



574 TEE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Sal. May this be possible? may this be 

true ? 
Mel. Have I not hideous death within my 

view, 
Retaining but a quantity of life ; 
"Which bleeds away, even as a form of wax 
Resolveth from his figure 'gainst the fire ? 
What in the world should make me now deceive, 
Since I must lose the use of all deceit ? 
Why should I then be false ; since it is true 
That I must die here, and live hence by truth ? 
I say again, if Lewis do win the day, 
He is forsworn, if e'er those eyes of yours 
Behold another day break in the east : 
But even this night, — whose black contagious 

breath 
Already smokes about the burning crest 
Of the old, feeble, and day -wearied sun, — 
Even this ill night, your breathing shall expire ; 
Paying the fine of rated treachery, 
Even with a treacherous fine of all your lives, 
If Lewis by your assistance win the day. 
Commend me to one Hubert, with your king ; 
The love of him, — and this respect besides, 
For that my grandsire was an Englishman, — 
Awakes my conscience to confess all this. 
In lieu whereof, I pray you, bear me hence 
Erom forth the noise and rumour of the field ; 
Where I may think the remnant of my thoughts 
In peace, and part this body and my soul 
With contemplation and devout desires. 

KING JOHN. A. 5, S t. 



THE WARRIOR'S DEATH. 

In which array, (brave soldier,) doth he lie, 

Larding the plain : and by his bloody side, 

(Yoke-fellow to his honour-owing wounds,) 

The noble earl of Suffolk also lies. 

Suffolk first died : and York, all haggled over, 

Comes to him, where in gore he lay insteep'd, 

And takes him by the beard ; kisses the gashes, 

That bloodily did yawn upon his face ; 

And cries aloud, — Tarry, dear cousin Suffolk ! 

My soul shall thine keep company to heaven : 

Tarry, siveet soul, for mine, then fly a-breast ; 

As, in this glorious and well-fought en field, 

We kept together in our chivalry ! 

Upon these words I came, and cheer' d him up : 

He smil'd me in the face, raught me his hand, 

And with a feeble gripe, says, — Dear my lord, 

Commend my service to my sovereign. 

So did he turn, and over Suffolk's neck 

He threw his wounded arm, and kiss'd his lips ; 

And so, espous'd to death, with blood he seal'd 

A testament of noble-ending love. 

The pretty and sweet manner of it forc'd 

Those waters from me, which I would have 

stopp'd ; 
But I had not so much of man in me, 
But all my mother came into mine eyes, 
And gave me up to tears. 

K. HENEY V., A. 4, S. 6. 



THE WARRIOR'S DEFIANCE. 

The fires i'the lowest hell fold in the people ! 
Call me their traitor ? — Thou injurious tribune, 
Within thine eyes sat twenty thousand deaths, 



576 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

In thy hands clutch' d as many millions, in 
Thy lying tongue both numbers, I would say, 
Thou liest, unto thee, with a voice as free 
As I do pray the gods. 

I'll know no further : 
Let them pronounce the steep Tarpeian death, 
Vagabond exile, flaying ; Pent to linger 
But with a grain a day, I would not buy 
Their mercy at the price of one fair word ; 
Nor check my courage for what they can give, 
To have't with saying, Good morrow. 

CORIOLANUS, A. 3, S. 3. 



THE WARRIOR'S DEFIANCE. 

Let not my cold words here accuse my zeal : 
'Tis not the trial of a woman's war, 
The bitter clamour of two eager tongues, 
Can arbitrate this cause betwixt us twain : 
The blood is hot, that must be cool'd for this, 
Yet can I not of such tame patience boast, 
As to be hush'd, and nought at all to say : 
First, the fair reverence of your highness curbs 

me 
From giving reins and spurs to my free speech ; 
Which else would post, until it had return' d 
These terms of treason doubled down his 

throat. 
Setting aside his high blood's royalty, 
And let him be no kinsman to my liege, 
I do defy him, and I spit at him ; 
Call him — a slanderous coward, and a villain 
Which to maintain, I would allow him odds ; 
And meet him, were I tied to run a-foot 
Even to the frozen ridges of the Alps, 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. S77 

Or any other ground inhabitable, 
"Wherever Englishman durst set his foot. 
Mean time, let this defend my loyalty, — 
By all my hopes, most falsely doth he lie. 

K. RICHARD II., A. 1, S. 1. 



THE WARRIOR'S PRAYER 

Thou ! whose captain I account myself, 
Look on my forces with a gracious eye ; 
Put in their hands thy bruising irons of wrath, 
That they may crush down with a heavy fall 
The usurping helmets of our adversaries ! 
Make us thy ministers of chastisement, 
That we may praise thee in thy victory ! 
To thee I do commend my watchful soul, 
Ere I let fall the windows of mine eyes ; 
Sleeping, and waking, 0, defend me still ! 

K. RICHARD III., A. 5, S. 3. 



THE WARRIOR'S PRAYER FOR 

HIS SON. 

The god of soldiers, 
With the consent of supreme love, inform 
Thy thoughts with nobleness ; that thou may'st 

prove 
To shame unvulnerable, and stick i'the wars 
Like a great sea-mark, standing every flaw, 
And saving those that eye thee ! 

CORIOLAXUS, A. 5, S. 3. 



2p 



578 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

THE WAY TO ENJOY NATURE IS TO 
BECOME SATIATED WITH ART. 

Now, my co-mates, and brothers in exile, 
Hath not old custom made this life more sweet 
Than that of painted pomp ? Are not these 

woods 
More free from peril than the envious court ? 
Here feel we but the penalty of Adam, 
The seasons' difference ; as, the icy fang, 
And churlish chiding of the winter's wind ; 
Which when it bites and blows upon my body, 
Even till I shrink with cold, I smile, and say, — 
This is no flattery : these are counsellors 
That feelingly persuade me what I am. 
Sweet are the uses of adversity ; 
Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, 
Wears yet a precious jewel in his head ; 
And this our life, exempt from public haunt, 
Finds tongues in trees, books in the running 

brooks, 
Sermons in stones, and good in every thing. 

AS YOU LIKE IT, A. 2, S. 1. 



THE WEEPING QUEENS AND 

MOTHERS. 

Q. Maegabet. If ancient sorrow be most 
reverent, 
Give mine the benefit of seniory, 
And let my griefs frown on the upper hand, 
If sorrow can admit society. 
Tell o'er your woes again, by viewing mine : — 
I had an Edward, till a Richard kill'd him ; 
I had a husband, till a Richard kill'd him : 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 579 

Thou hadst an Edward, till a BicJiard kill'd him: 
Thou hadst a Richard, till a Richard kill'd him. 

Duchess. I had a Richard too, and thou 
didst kill him ; 
I had a Rutland too, thou holp'st to kill him. 

Q. Mar. Thou hadst a Clarence too, and 
Richard kill'd him. 
From forth the kennel of thy womb hath crept 
A hell-hound, that doth hunt us all to death : 
That dog, that had his teeth before his eyes, 
To worry lambs, and lap their gentle blood ; 
That foul defacer of God's handy- work ; 
That excellent grand tyrant of the earth, 
That reigns in galled eyes of weeping souls, 
Thy womb let loose, to chase us to our graves.— 
O upright, just, and true- disposing God, 
How do I thank thee, that this carnal cur 
Preys on the issue of his mother's body, 
And makes her pew-fellow with others' moan ! 

Ditch. 0, Harry's wife, triumph not in my 
woes; 
God witness with me, I have wept for thine. 

Q. Mar. Bear with me; I am hungry for 
revenge, 
And now I cloy me with beholding it. 
Thy Edward he is dead, that kill'd my Edioard; 
Thy other Edward dead, to quit my Edward; 
Young York he is but boot, because both they 
Match not the high perfection of my loss. 
Thy Clarence he is dead, that stabb'd my Edward; 
And the beholders of this tragick play, 
The adulterate Hastings, Rivers, Yaughan, Grey, 
Untimely smother' d in their dusky graves. 
Richard yet lives, hell's black intelligencer; 
Only reserv'd their factor, to buy sou]s, 
And send them thither : But at hand, at hand. 



580 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Ensues his piteous and unpitied end : 
Earth gapes, hell burns, fiends roar, saints pray, 
To have him suddenly conveyed from hence : — 
Cancel his bond of life, dear God, I pray, 
That I may live to say, The dog is dead ! 

Q. Elizabeth. 0, thou didst prophesy, the 

time would come, 
That I should wish for thee to help me curse 
That bottled spider, that foul bunch-back'd toad. 
Q. Mar. I call'd thee then, vain flourish of 

my fortune ; 
I call'd thee then, poor shadow, painted queen ; 
The presentation of but what I was, 
The flattering index of a direful pageant, 
One heav'd a high, to be hurl'd down below : 
A mother only mock'd with two fair babes ; 
A dream of what thou wast ; a garish flag, 
To be the aim of every dangerous shot ; 
A sign of dignity, a breath, a bubble ; 
A queen in jest, only to fill the scene. 
"Where is thy husband now ? where be thy 

brothers ? 
Where be thy two sons? wherein dost thou 

j°y ? 

Who sues, and kneels, and says — God save the 

queen ? 
Where be the bending peers that flatter' d thee ? 
Where be the thronging troops that follow'd 

thee ? 
Decline all this, and see what now thou art. 
Eor happy wife, a most distressed widow ; 
Eor joyful mother, one that wails the name ; 
Eor one being sued to, one that humbly sues ; 
Eor queen, a very caitiff crown' d with care ; 
Eor one that scorn' d at me, now scorn' d of me; 
Eor one being fear'd of all, now fearing one ; 



WILLIAM SHAXUSPHABU. 5 8 1 

For one commanding all, obey'd of none. 
Thus hath the course of justice wheel' d about, 
And left thee but a very prey to time ; 
Having no more but thought of what thou wert, 
To torture thee the more, being what thou art. 
Thou didst usurp my place, And dost thou not 
Usurp the just proportion of my sorrow ? 
Now thy proud neck bears half my burden' d 

yoke; 
From which even here I slip my wearied head, 
And leave the burden of it all on thee. 
Farewell, York's wife, — and queen of sad mis- 
chance, — 
These English woes shall make me smile in 
France. 
Q. Eliz. O thou well skill' d in curses, stay 
a while, 
And teach me how to curse mine enemies. 
Q. Mae. Forbear to sleep the night, and 
fast the day ; 
Compare dead happiness with living woe ; 
Think that thy babes were fairer than they were, 
And he, that slew them, fouler than he is : 
Bettering thy loss makes the bad-causer worse ; 
Revolving this will teach thee how to curse. 

K. RICHARD III., A. 4, S. 4. 



THE WIDOW'S REBUKE. 

Finds brotherhood in thee no sharper spur ? 
Hath love in thy old blood no living fire ? 
Edward's seven sons, whereof thyself art one, 
Were as seven phials of his sacred blood, 
Or seven fair branches springing from one root : 
Some of those seven are dried by nature's course,, 
Some of those branches by the destinies cut : 



582 TRIE PHILOSOPHY OF 

But Thomas, my dear lord, my life, my Gloster, — 

One phial full of Edward's sacred blood, 

One nourishing branch of his most royal root, — 

Is crack' d, and all the precious liquor spilt ; 

Is hack'd down, and his summer leaves all faded, 

By envy's hand, and murder's bloody axe. 

Ah, Gaunt I his blood was thine ; that bed, that 

womb, 
That mettle, that self-mould, that fashion'd thee, 
Made him a man 5 and though thou liv'st, and 

breath' st, 
Tet art thou slain in him : thou dost consent 
In some large measure to thy father's death, 
In that thou seest thy wretched brother die, 
"Who was the model of thy father's life. 
Call it not patience, Gaunt, it is despair : 
In suffering thus thy brother to be slaughter'd, 
Thou show'st the naked pathway to thy life, 
Teaching stern murder how to butcher thee : 
That which in mean men we entitle — patience, 
Is pale cold cowardice in noble breasts. 
What shall I say ? to safeguard thine own life, 
The best way is — to 'venge my Gloster' s death. 

K. RICHARD II., A. 1, S. 2. 



THE WIDOW'S WAIL. 

The Wife. Ah ! who shall hinder me to wail 
and weep, 
To chide my fortune, and torment myself? 
I'll join with black despair against my soul, 
And to myself become an enemy. 
To make an act of tragick violence : — 
Edward, my lord, thy son, our king, is dead. — 
Why grow the branches, when the root is gone ? 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE 583 

Why wither not the leaves, that want their sap ? 

If you will live, lament ; if die, be brief; 

That our swift-winged souls may catch the 

king's ; 
Or, like obedient subjects, follow him 
To his new kingdom of perpetual rest. 

The Mother. Ah, so much interest have I 

in thy sorrow 
As I had title in thy noble husband ! 
I have bewept a worthy husband's death, 
And liv'd by looking on his images : 
But now, two mirrors of his princely semblance 
Are crack' d in pieces by malignant death ; 
And I for comfort have but one false glass, 
That grieves me when I see my shame in him. 
Thou art a widow ; yet thou art a mother, 
And hast the comfort of thy children left thee : 
But death hath snatch' d my husband from my 

arms, 
And pluck' d two crutches from my feeble hands, 
Clarence and Edward, 0, what cause have I, 
(Thine being but a moiety of my grief,) 
To over-go thy plaints, and drown thy cries ? 

The Wife. Give me no help in lamentation, 
I am not barren to bring forth laments : 
All springs reduce their currents to mine eyes, 
That I, being govern' d by the w T at'ry moon, 
May send forth plenteous tears to drown the 

world ! 
Ah, for my husband, for my dear lord Edward ! 
The Mothee. Was never mother, had so 

dear a loss. 
Alas ! I am the mother of these griefs ; 
Their woes are parcell'd, mine are general. 
She for an Edward weeps, and so do I ; 
I for a Clarence weep, so doth not she : 



584 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

These babes for Clarence weep, and so do I : 
I for an Edward weep, so do not they : — 
Alas ! you three, on me, threefold distress' d, 
Pour all your tears, I am your sorrow's nurse, 
And I will pamper it with lamentations. 

K. RICHARD III., A. 2, S. 2. 



THE WIFE. 

Tor are my true and honourable wife ; 
As dear to me, as are the ruddy drops 
That visit my sad heart. 

JULIUS CESAR, A. 2, S. i. 



THE WIFE CONFESSOR 

Come, come, no longer will I be a fool, 

To put the finger in the eye and weep, 

Whilst man, and master, laugh my woes to 

scorn. — 
Come, sir, to dinner ; Dromio, keep the gate : — 
Husband, I'll dine above with you to-day, 
And shrive you of a thousand idle pranks : 
Sirrah, if any ask you for your master, 
Say, he dines forth, and let no creature enter. — 
Come, sister : — Dromio, play the porter well. 

COMEDY OF ERRORS, A. 2, S. 2. 



THE WIFE'S LOVE. 

O 

Dissembling courtesy ! How fine this tyrant 
Can tickle where she wounds! — My dearest 
husband, 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 585 

I something fear my father's wrath; but nothing, 

(Always reserv'd my holy duty,) what 

His rage can do on me : Tou must be gone ; 

And I shall here abide the hourly shot 

Of angry eyes ; not comforted to live, 

But that there is this jewel in the world, 

That I may see again. 

CTMBELINE, A. 1, S. 2. 



THE WIFE'S PATTEKN. 

Brutus, my lord ! Tou have ungently 

Stole from my bed : And yesternight, at supper, 

Tou suddenly arose and walked about, 

Musing, and sighing, with your arms across : 

And when I ask'd you what the matter was, 

Tou star'd upon me with ungentle looks : 

I urg'd you further; then you scratck'd your 

head, 
And too impatiently stamp' d with your foot : 
Tet I insisted, yet you answer' d not ; 
But, with an angry wafture of your hand, 
Gave sign for me to leave you : So I did ; 
Fearing to strengthen that impatience, 
Which seem'd too much enkindled; and, withal, 
Hoping it was but an effect of humour, 
Which sometime hath his hour with every man. 
It will not let you eat, nor talk, nor sleep ; 
And, could it work so much upon your shape, 
As it hath much prevail' d on your condition, 
I should not know you, Brutus. Dear my lord, 
Make me acquainted with your cause of grief. 
Brutus is wise, and, were he not in health, 
He would embrace the means to come by it. 
Is Brutus sick ? and is it physical 
To walk unbraced, and suck up the humours 



586 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Of the dank morning ? "What ! is Brutus sick ; 
And will he steal out of his wholesome bed, 
To dare the vile contagion of the night ? 
And tempt the rheumy and unpurged air 
To add unto his sickness ? No, my Brutus ; 
You have some sick offence within your mind, 
Which, by the right and virtue of my place, 
I ought to know of: And, upon my knees, 
I charm you, by my once commended beauty, 
By all your vows of love, and that great vow 
"Which did incorporate and make us one, 
That you unfold to me, yourself, your half, 
"Why you are heavy ; tell me, Brutus, 
Is it excepted, I should know no secrets 
That appertain to you ? Am I yourself, 
But, as it were, in sort, or limitation ; 
To keep with you at meals, comfort your bed, 
And talk to you sometimes ? Dwell I but in the 

suburbs 
Of your good pleasure ? If it be no more, 
Portia is Brutus' harlot, not his wife. 
I grant, I am a woman ; but, withal, 
A woman that lord Brutus took to wife : 
I grant, I am a woman ; but, withal, 
A woman well-reputed ; Cato^s daughter. 
Think you, I am no stronger than my sex, 
Being so father' d, and so husbanded ? 
Tell me your counsels, I will not disclose them : 
I have made strong proof of my constancy, 
Giving myself a voluntary wound 
Here, in the thigh: Can I bear that with 

patience, 
And not my husband's secrets. 

ye gods, 
Bender me worthy of this noble wife ! 

JULIUS CJESAR, A. 2, S. 1, 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE 587 



THE WIFE'S EEMONSTRANCE. 

Sib, I desire you, do me right and justice ; 
And to bestow your pity on me : for 
I am a most poor woman, and a stranger, 
Born out of your dominions ; having here 
No judge indifferent, nor no more assurance 
Of equal friendship and proceeding. Alas, sir, 
In what have I offended you ? what cause 
Hath my behaviour given to your displeasure, 
That thus you should proceed to put me off, 
And take your good grace from me? Heaven 

witness, 
I have been to you a true and humble wife, 
At all times to your will conformable : 
Ever in fear to kindle your dislike, 
Tea, subject to your countenance ; glad, or sorry. 
As I saw it inclin'd. When was the hour, 
I ever contradicted your desire, 
Or made it not mine too? Or which of your 

friends 
Have I not strove to love, although I knew 
He were mine enemy ? what friend of mine 
That had to him deriv'd your anger, did I 
Continue in my liking ? nay, gave notice 
He was from thence discharg'd ? Sir, call to mind 
That I have been your wife, in this obedience, 
Upward of twenty years, and have been blest 
With many children by you ; If, in the course 
And process of this time, you can report, 
And prove it too, against mine honour aught, 
My bond to wedlock, or my love and duty, 
Against your sacred person, in God's name, 
Turn me away ; and let the foul'st contempt 
Shut door upon me, and so give me up 
To the sharpest kind of justice. Please you, sir, 



588 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

The king, your father, was reputed for 

A prince most prudent, of an excellent 

And unmatch'd wit and judgment : Ferdinand, 

My father, ting of Spain, was reckon' d one 

The wisest prince, that there had reign' d by 

many 
A year before : It is not to be question' d 
That they had gather' d a wise council to them 
Of every realm, that did debate this business, 
Who deem'd our marriage lawful : Wherefore I 

humbly 
Beseech you, sir, to spare me, till I may 
Be by my friends in Spain advis'd ; whose counsel 
I will implore ; if not ; i'the name of Grod, 
Tour pleasure be fulfill' d ! 

K. HENRY VIII., A. 2, S. 4. 



THE WIFE THE GREATER VILLAIN. 

G-LAMis thou art, and Cawdor ; and shalt be 
: What thou art promis'd: — Yet do I fear thy 

nature ; 
I It is too full o' the milk of human kindness, 
To catch the nearest way: Thou would' st be 

great; 
Art not without ambition ; but without 
; The illness should attend it. What thou would' st 
highly, 
That would' st thou holily; would' st not play 
falsely, 
\ And yet would' st wrongly win: thou'd'st have, 

great Glamis, 
\ That which cries, Thus thou must do, if thou 
have it : 
And that which rather thou dost fear to do, 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 589 | 



Than wisliest should he undone. Hie thee hither, 
That I may pour my spirits in thine ear ; 
And chastise with the valour of my tongue 
All that impedes thee from the golden round, 
Which fate and metaphysical aid doth seem 
To have thee crown' d withal. 

MACBETH, A. 1, S. 5. 



THE WILL FOR THE DEED. 

The kinder we, to give them thanks for nothing. 
Our sport shall be, to take what they mistake : 
And what poor duty cannot do, 
Noble respect takes it in might, not merit. 
Where I have come, great clerks have purposed 
To greet me with premeditated welcomes ; 
Where I have seen them shiver and look pale, 
Make periods in the midst of sentences, 
Throttle their practis'd accent in their fears, 
And, in conclusion, dumbly have broke off, 
Not paying me a welcome : Trust me, sweet, 
Out of this silence, yet, I pick'd a welcome ; 
And in the modesty of fearful duty 
I read as much, as from the rattling tongue 
Of sawcy, and audacious eloquence. 
Love, therefore, and tongue-tied simplicity, 
In least, speak most, to my capacity. 

MIDSUMMER NIGHT S DREAM, A. 5, S. 1. 



THE WISE WOMAN. 

She that was ever fair, and never proud ; 
Had tongue at will, and yet was never loud ; 
Never lack'd gold, and yet went never gay ; 
Fled from her wish, and yet said, — now I may ; 



S9o THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

She that, being anger' d, her revenge being nigh, 
Bade her wrong stay, and her displeasure fly : 
She that in wisdom never was so frail, 
To change the cod's head for the salmon's tail ; 
She that could think, and ne'er disclose her mind, 
See suitors following, and not look behind ; 
She was a wight, — if ever such wight were. 

OTHELLO, A. 2, S. 1. 



THE WOLF AND THE LAMB. 

Gloster. "Welcome, dear cousin, my 

thoughts' sovereign: 
The weary way hath made you melancholy. 
Prince. No, uncle ; but our crosses on the 

way 
Have made it tedious, wearisome, and heavy : 
I want more uncles here to welcome me. 

GrLO. Sweet prince, the untainted virtue of 

your years 
Hath not yet div'd into the world's deceit : 
No more can you distinguish of a man, 
Than of his outward show ; which, God he knows, 
Seldom, or never, jumpeth with the heart. 
Those uncles, which you want, were dangerous ; 
Tour grace attended to their sugar' d words, 
But look'd not on the poison of their hearts : 
God keep you from them, and from such false 

friends ! 
Prince. God keep me from false friends! 

but they were none. 

K. RICHARD III., A. 3, S. 1. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 59 1 

THE WOMAN'S WEAPON. 

I dabe be sworn :- 



These dangerous unsafe lunes o' the king! 

beshrew them ! 
He must be told on't, and he shall : the office 
Becomes a woman best ; I'll take't upon me : 
If I prove honey-mouth' d, let my tongue blister ; 
And never to my red-look' d anger be 
The trumpet any more : — Pray you, Emilia, 
Commend my best obedience to the queen ; 
If she dares trust me with her little babe, 
I'll show't the king, and undertake to be 
Her advocate to th' loudest : We do not know 
How he may soften at the sight o'the child ; 
The silence often of pure innocence 
Persuades, when speaking fails. 

Tell her, Emilia, 
I'll use that tongue I have : if wit flow from it, 
As boldness from my bosom, let it not be doubted 
I shall do good. 

winter's tale, a. 2, s. 2. 



THE WORK OF THE WARRIOR 

These are the ushers of Marcius : before him 
He carries noise, and behind him he leaves 

tears ; 
Death, that dark spirit, in's nervy arm doth he ; 
Which being advanc'd, declines ; and then men 

die. 

CORIOLANUS, A. 2, S. 1. 



592 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

THE WOKLDLY EPOCH OF 
CIVILIZATION. 

So may the outward shows be least themselves ; 
The world is still deceiv'd with ornament. 
In law, what plea so tainted and corrupt, 
But, being season' d with a gracious voice, 
Obscures the show of evil ? In religion, 
"What damned error, but some sober brow 
"Will bless it, and approve it with a text, 
Hiding the grossness with fair ornament ? 
There is no vice so simple, but assumes 
Some mark of virtue on his outward parts. 
How many cowards, whose hearts are all as false 
As stairs of sand, wear yet upon their chins 
The beards of Hercules, and frowning Mars ; 
Who inward search' d, have livers white as milk ? 
And these assume but valour's excrement, 
To render them redoubted. Look on beauty, 
And you shall see 'tis purchas'd by the weight ; 
"Which therein works a miracle in nature, 
Making them lightest that wear most of it : 
So are those crisped snakey golden locks, 
Which make such wanton gambols with the 

wind, 
Upon supposed fairness, often known 
To be the dowry of a second head, 
The scull that bred them, in the sepulchre. 
Thus ornament is but the guiled shore 
To a most dangerous sea ; the beauteous scarf 
Veiling an Indian beauty ; in a word, 
The seeming truth which cunning times put on 
To entrap the wisest. 

MERCHANT OF VENICE , A. 3, S. 2. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 593 

THE WORLDLY FRIEND GROWING 

COLD. 

What a wicked beast was I, to disfurnisli 
myself against such a good time, when I might 
have shown myself honourable ! how unluckily 
it happened, that I should purchase the day 
before for a little part, and undo a great deal of 
honour ! — Servilius, now before the gods, I am 
not able to do't ; the more beast, I say : — I was 
sending to use lord Timon myself, these gentle- 
men can witness; but I would not, for the 
wealth of Athens, I had done it now. Commend 
me bountifully to his good lordship ; and I hope, 
his honour will conceive the fairest of me, be- 
cause I have no power to be kind: — And tell 
him this from me, I count it one of my greatest 
afflictions, say, that I cannot pleasure such an 
honourable gentleman. Good Servilius, will you 
befriend me so far, as to use mine own words to 
him? 

True, as you said, Timon is shrunk, indeed ; 
And he, that's once denied, will hardly speed. 

TIMON OP ATHENS, A. 3, S. 2. 



THE WORLD'S COMMON COMMENT 

ON MISFORTUNE. 

Alas, good lord ! a noble gentleman 'tis, if he 
would not keep so good a house. Many a time 
and often I have dined with him, and told him 
on't ; and come again to supper to him, of pur- 
pose to have him spend less : and yet he would 
embrace no counsel, take no warning by my 
2q 



594 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

coming. Every man has Ms fault, and honesty- 
is his ; I have told him on't, but I could never 
get him from it. 

TIMON OP ATHENS, A. 3., S. 1. 



THE WORM THAT DIETH NOT 

WITHOUT REPENTANCE. 

Unnatural deeds 
Do breed unnatural troubles : Infected minds 
To their deaf pillows will discharge their secrets. 
More needs she the divine, than the physician. — 
Grod, Grod, forgive us all ! Look after her ; 
Remove from her the means of all annoyance, 
And still keep eyes upon her : — So, good night : 
My mind she has mated, and amaz'd my sight : 
I think, but dare not speak. 

MACBETH, A. 5, S. 1. 



THE WORTHY SCION OF A NOBLE 

FATHER. 

Talbot. O young John Talbot ! I did send 
for thee, 
To tutor thee in stratagems of war ; 
That Talbofs name might be in thee reviv'd, 
When sapless age, and weak unable limbs, 
Should bring thy father to his drooping chair. 
But, — O malignant and ill-boding stars ! — 
Now thou art come unto a feast of death, 
A terrible and unavoided danger : 
Therefore, dear boy, mount on my swiftest horse ; 
And I'll direct thee how thou shalt escape 
By sudden flight : come, dally not, begone. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 595 

John". Is my name Talbot ? and am I your 
son? 
And shall I fly ? 0, if you love my mother, 
Dishonour not her honourable name, 
To make a bastard, and a slave of me : 
The world will say, — He is not Talbot's blood, 
That basely fled, when noble Talbot stood. 

Tal. Fly, to revenge my death, if I be slain. 

John". He, that flies so, will ne'er return 
again. 

Tal. If we both stay, we both are sure to die. 

John". Then let me stay ; and, father, do you 
fly: 
Tour loss is great, so your regard should be ; 
My worth unknown, no loss is known in me. 
Upon my death the French can little boast ; 
In yours they will, in you all hopes are lost. 
Flight cannot stain the honour you have won ; 
But mine it will, that no exploit have done : 
Tou fled for vantage, every one will swear ; 
But, if I bow, they'll say — it was for fear. 
There is no hope that ever I will stay, 
If, the first hour, I shrink, and run away. 
Here, on my knee, I beg mortality, 
Kather than life preserv'd with infamy. 

Tal. Shall all thy mother's hopes lie in one 
tomb? 

John. Ay, rather than I'll shame my mother's 
womb. 

Tal. Upon my blessing I command thee go. 

Johk. To fight I will, but not to fly the foe. 

Tal. Part of thy father may be sav'd in thee. 

John". 'No part of him, but will be shame in 
me. 

Tal. Thou never had'st renown, nor canst 
not lose it. 



596 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Johk. Yes, your renowned name ; Shall flight 

abuse it ? 
Tal. Thy father's charge shall clear thee 

from that stain. 
Johk. You cannot witness for me, being 
slain. 
If death be so apparent, then both fly. 

Tal. And leave my followers here, to fight, 
and die ? 
My age was never tainted with such shame, 
Jomsr. And shall my youth be guilty of such 
blame ? 
]NTo more can I be sever' d from your side, 
Than can yourself yourself in twain divide : 
Stay, go, do what you will, the like do I ; 
For live I will not, if my father die. 

Tal. Then here I take my leave of thee, 
fair son, 
Born to eclipse thy life this afternoon. 
Come, side by side together live and die ; 
And soul with soul from France to heaven fly. 

K. HENRY VI., PART I., A. 4, S. 5. 



THE WOBTHY SCION OF A NOBLE 
FATHER— THEIR DEATHS 

Talbot. "Where is my other life ? — mine own 

is gone ; — 
O, where' s young Talbot? where is valiant 

John ? — 
Triumphant death, smear' d with captivity ! 
Young Talbot's valour makes me smile at thee : — 
"When he perceiv'd me shrink, and on my knee, 
His bloody sword he brandish'd over me, 
And, like a hungry lion, did commence 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 597 

Bough deeds of rage, and stern impatience ; 
But when my angry guardant stood alone, 
Tend'ring my ruin, and assail' d of none, 
Dizzy-ey'd fury, and great rage of heart, 
Suddenly made him from my side to start 
Into the clust'ring battle of the Trench : 
And in that sea of blood my boy did drench 
His overmounting spirit ; and there died 
My Icarus, my blossom, in his pride. 

Enter Soldiers, hearing the body of 
John Talbot. 

Sebvaistt. my dear lord ! lo, where your 

son is borne ! 
Tal. Thou antick death, which laugh'st us 
here to scorn, 
Anon, from thy insulting tyranny, 
Coupled in bonds of perpetuity, 
Two Talbots, winged through the lither sky, 
In thy despite, shall 'scape mortality. — 
O thou whose wounds become hard-favoured 

death, 
Speak to thy father, ere thou yield thy breath : 
Brave death by speaking, whether he will, or no ; 
Imagine him a Frenchman, and thy foe. — 
Poor boy ! he smiles, methinks ; as who should 

say- 
Had death been French, then death had died to- 
day. 
Come, come, and lay him in his father's arms ; 
My spirit can no longer bear these harms. 
Soldiers, adieu ! I have what I would have, 
Now my old arms are young John Talbot's grave. 

K. HENRY VI., PART I., A. 4, S. 7. 



598 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

THIS WAS A MAN. 

This was the noblest Eoman of them all : 

All the conspirators, save only he, 

Did that they did in envy of great Ccesar ; 

He, only, in a general honest thought, 

And common good to all, made one of them. 

His life was gentle ; and the elements 

So mix'd in him, that Nature might stand up, 

And say to all the world, This was a man ! 

JULIUS CffiSAR, A. 5, S. 5. 



THOSE WE LOVE WE HOPE TO 

MEET AGAIN. 

Sir, fare you well ! 
Hereafter, in a better world than this, 
I shall desire more love and knowledge of you. 

AS YOU LIKE IT, A. 1, S. 2. 



THOSE WHO CANNOT LEARN 
EITHER THROUGH THE MEDIUM 
OF NATURE OR ART. 

Touchstone. Hast any philosophy in thee, 
shepherd ? 

Conns'. No more, but that I know, the more 
one sickens, the worse at ease he is ; and that he 
that wants money, means, and content, is with- 
out three good friends : — That the property of 
rain is to wet, and fire to burn: That good 
pasture makes fat sheep ; and that a great cause 
of the night, is lack of the sun : That he, that 
hath learned no wit by nature nor art, may com- 
plain of good breeding, or comes of a very dull 
kindred. AS you LIKE 1T> Ap 3^ St 2. 



WILLIAM SSAXJSSPUABU. 599 

THE KING'S REFLECTION ON 

MISFORTUNE. 

I have been studying how I may compare 
This prison, where I live, unto the world : 
And, for because the world is populous, 
And here is not a creature but myself, 
I cannot do it ; yet I'll hammer it out. 
My brain I'll prove the female to my soul ; 
My soul, the father : and these two beget 
A generation of still-breeding thoughts, 
And these same thoughts people this little world ; 
In humours, like the people of this world, 
For no thought is contented. The better sort, — 
As thoughts of things divine, — are intermix' d 
"With scruples, and do set the word itself 
Against the word : 

As thus, — Come, little ones ; and then again, 
It is as hard to come, as for a camel 
To thread the postern of a needle's eye. 
Thoughts tending to ambition, they do plot 
Unlikely wonders : how these vain weak nails 
May tear a passage through the flinty ribs 
Of this hard world, my ragged prison walls ; 
And, for they cannot, die in their own pride. 
Thoughts tending to content, flatter them- 
selves, — 
That they are not the first of fortune's slaves, 
Nor shall not be the last ; like silly beggars, 
"Who, sitting in the stocks, refuge their shame, — 
That many have, and others must sit there : 
And in this thought they find a kind of ease, 
Bearing their own misfortune on the back 
Of such as have before endur'd the like. 
Thus play I, in one person, many people, 
And none contented : Sometimes am I king ; 



600 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Then treason makes me wish myself a beggar, 
And so I am : Then crushing penury 
Persuades me I was better when a king ; 
Then am I king'd again : and, by-and-by, 
Think that I am unking' d by Bolinghrohe, 
And straight am nothing : — But, whate'er I am, 
Nor I, nor any man, that but man is, 
"With nothing shall be pleas' d till he be eas'd 
"With being nothing. — Musick do I hear ? 

[MusicJc. 
Ha, ha ! keep time : — How sour sweet musick is, 
"When time is broke, and no proportion kept ! 
So is it in the musick of men's lives. 
And here have I the daintiness of ear, 
To check time broke in a disorder' d string ; 
But, for the concord of my state and time, 
Had not an ear to hear my true time broke. 
I wasted time, and now doth time waste me. 
For now hath time made me his numb'ring clock : 
My thoughts are minutes ; and, with sighs, they 

jar 
Their watches on unto mine eyes, the outward 

watch, 
Whereto my finger, like a dial's point, 
Is pointing still, in cleansing them from tears. 
Now, sir, the sound, that tells what hour it is, 
Are clamorous groans, that strike upon my heart, 
Which is the bell: So sighs, and tears, and 

groans, 
Show minutes, times, and hours ; — but my time 
Buns posting on in Bolinglrolce* s proud joy, 
While I stand fooling here, his Jack o'the clock. 
This musick mads me, let it sound no more ; 
For, though it have holpe madmen to their wits, 
In me, it seems it will make wise men mad. 
Yet blessing on his heart that gives it me ! 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 60 1 

For 'tis a sign of love ; and love to Richard 
Is a strange brooch in this all-hating world ! 

K. RICHARD II., A. 5, S. 5. 

TIME A HAPPY OR MISERABLE 
COMPANION, ACCORDING AS WE 
WEAR IT. 

Rosalind. Time travels in divers paces with 
divers persons: I'll tell you who time ambles 
withal, who time trots withal, who time gallops 
withal, and who he stands still withal. 

Oblakdo. I pr'ythee, who doth he trot 
withal ? 

Ros. Marry, he trots hard with a young 
maid, between the contract of her marriage, and 
the day it is solemnized ; if the interim be but a 
se'nnight, time's pace is so hard that it seems 
the length of seven years. 

Oel. Who ambles time withal ? 

Ros. With a priest that lacks Latin, and a 
rich man that hath not the gout : for the one 
sleeps easily, because he cannot study ; and the 
other lives merrily, because he feels no pain: 
the one lacking the burden of lean and wasteful 
learning ; the other knowing no burden of heavy 
tedious penury : These time ambles withal. 

Oel. Who doth he gallop withal ? 

Ros. with a thief to the gallows : for though 
he go as softly as foot can fall, he thinks himself 
too soon there. 

Oel. Who stays it still withal ? 

Ros. With lawyers in the vacation : for they 
sleep between term and term, and then they 
perceive not how times moves. 

AS YOU LIKE IT, A. 3, S. 2. 



602 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

THE FALL OF GREATNESS IN 

LOVE. 

Antony. Now I must 

To the young man send humble treaties, dodge 
And palter in the shifts of lowness ; who 
With half the bulk o'the world play'd as I 

pleas' d, 
Making, and marring fortunes. Tou did know, 
How much you were my conqueror ; and that 
My sword, made weak by my affection, would 
Obey it on all cause. 

Cleopatra. pardon, pardon. 

Ant. Fall not a tear, I say ; one of them 
rates 
All that is won and lost : Give me a kiss ; 
Even this repays me. — We sent our school- 
master, 
Is he come back ? — Love, I am full of lead : — 
Some wine, within there, and our viands : — For- 
tune knows, 
We scorn her most, when most she offers blows. 

ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA, A. 3, S. 10. 



TOO LATE FOR DINNER 

The capon burns, the pig falls from the spit ; 
The clock hath strucken twelve upon the bell, 
My mistress made it one upon my cheek : 
She is so hot, because the meat is cold ; 
The meat is cold, because you come not home ; 
You come not home, because you have no 

stomach ; 
Tou have no stomach, having broke your fast ; 
But we, that know what 'tis to fast and pray, 



WILLIAM SHAKLJSPJEAJRU. 603 

Are penitent for your default to-day. 

I pray you, jest, sir, as you sit at dinner : 

I from my mistress come to you in post ; 

If I return, I shall be post indeed ; 

For she will score your fault upon my pate. 

Methinks, your maw, like mine, should be your 

clock, 
And strike you home without a messenger. 

COMEDY OF EEEOItS, A. 1, S. 2. 



TOO NOBLE FOR FLATTERY. 

Masters o'the people, 
Tour multiplying crowds how can he natter, 
(That's thousand to one good one,) when you 

now see, 
He had rather venture all his limbs for honour, 
Than one of his ears to hear it. 

COKIOLANUS ; A. 2, S. 2. 



TRAGEDY OF THE THREE 
BROTHERS. 

K. Edward. Is Clarence dead? the order 

was revers'd. 
Gloster. But he, poor man, by your first 

order died, 
And that a winged Mercury did bear ; 
Some tardy cripple bore the countermand, 
That came too lag to see him buried : — 
God grant, that some, less noble, and less loyal, 
Nearer in bloody thoughts, and not in blood, 
Deserve not worse than wretched Clarence did, 
And yet go current from suspicion ! 



6o 4 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

K. Edw. Have I a tongue to doom my 

brother's death, 
And shall that tongue give pardon to a slave ? 
My brother kill'd no man, his fault was thought, 
And yet his punishment was bitter death. 
"Who sued to me for him ? who, in my wrath, 
Kneel' d at my feet, and bade me be advis'd? 
"Who spoke of brotherhood ? who spoke of love ? 
"Who told me, how the poor soul did forsake 
The mighty Warwick, and did fight for me ? 
"Who told me, in the field at Tewhsbury, 
"When Oxford had me down, he rescu'd me, 
And said, Dear brother, live, and be a king ? 
Who told me, when we both lay in the field, 
Frozen almost to death, how he did lap me 
Even in his garment ; and did give himself, 
All thin and naked, to the numb-cold night ? 
All this from my remembrance brutish wrath 
Sinfully pluck' d, and not a man of you 
Had so much grace to put it in my mind. 
But, when your carters, or your waiting- vassals, 
Have done a drunken slaughter, and defac'd 
The precious image of our dear Redeemer, 
Tou straight are on your knees for pardon, 

pardon ; 
And I, unjustly too, must grant it you : — 
But for my brother, not a man would speak, — 
Nor I (ungracious) speak unto myself 
Eor him, poor soul. — The proudest of you all 
Have been beholden to him in his life ; 
Tet none of you would once plead for his life. — 
O G-od ! I fear, thy justice will take hold 
On me, and you, and mine, and yours, for this. — 
Come, Hastings, help me to my closet. 0, 
Poor Clarence! 

K. EICHA.RD HI., A. 2, S. 1. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 60s 

TRUST NOT APPEARANCES. 

Timost. You gods, reward them ! 

I pr'ythee, man, look cheerly ; These old fellows 
Have their ingratitude in them hereditary ; 
Their blood is cak'd, 'tis cold, it seldom flows ; 
'Tis lack of kindly warmth, they are not kind ; 
And nature, as it grows again toward earth, 
Is fashion' d for the journey, dull, and heavy. — 
Go to Ventidius, — [to a Serv.] 'Pr'ythee, [to 

Plavitts,] be not sad, 
Thou art true, and honest ; ingeniously I speak, 
No blame belongs to thee : — [to Serv.] Ventidius 

lately 
Buried his father ; by whose death, he's stepp'd 
Into a great estate : when he was poor, 
Imprison' d, and in scarcity of friends, 
I clear' d him with five talents : Greet him from 

me ; 
Bid him suppose, some good necessity 
Touches his friend, which craves to be re- 
member' d 
With those five talents : — that had, — [to Plav.] 
give it these fellows 
I To whom 'tis instant due. Ne'er speak, or 
think, 
That Timorfs fortune 'mong his friends can sink. 

TIMON OF ATHENS, A. 2, S. 2. 



THE OPPOSITE DINNER SAUCES. 

Holoeerkes. Satis quod sufficit. 

Nathaniel. I praise God for you, sir ; your 
reasons at dinner having been sharp and senten- 
tious ; pleasant without scurrility, witty without 



606 THJEJ PHILOSOPHY OF 

affection, audacious without impudency, learned 
without opinion, and strange without heresy. 
I did converse this quondam day with a com- 
panion of the king's, who is intituled, nomi- 
nated, or called Don Adriano de Armade. 

Hol. Novi hominem tanquam te : His humour 
is lofty, his discourse peremptory, his tongue 
filed, his eye ambitious, his gait majestical, and 
his general behaviour vain, ridiculous, and thra- 
sonical. He is too picked, too spruce, too af- 
fected, too odd, as it were, too peregrinate, as I 
may call it. He draweth out the thread of his 
verbosity finer than the staple of his argument. 
I abhor such fanatical fantasms, such insociable 
and point-devise companions; such rackers of 
orthography, as to speak, dout, fine, when he 
should say, doubt; det, when he should pro- 
nounce debt ; d, e, b, t ; not d, e, t : he clepeth 
a calf, cauf; half, hauf; neighbour, vocatwr 
nebour ; neigh, abbreviated, ne. 

love's labour's lost, a. 5, s. 1. 



THE ILL-TIMED MAEEIAGE. 

I with all unwillingness will go. 
O, would to God, that the inclusive verge 
Of golden metal, that must round my brow, 
"Were red-hot steel, to sear me to the brain ! 
Anointed let me be with deadly venom ; 
And die, ere men can say — God save the queen ! 
No ! why ? — When he, that is my husband now, 
Came to me, as I follow' d Henry's corse ; 
When scarce the blood was well wash'd from 

his hands. 
Which issu'd from my other angel husband, 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEABE. 607 

And that dead saint which then I weeping 

follow' d; 
O, when, I say, I look'd on Richard's face, 
This was my wish, — Be thou, quoth I, acorns' d, 
For making me, so young, so old a widow ! 
And, when thou wed'st, let sorrow haunt thy bed; 
And be thy ivife (if any be so mad) 
More miserable by the life of thee, 
Than thou hast made me by my dear lord's death ! 
Lo, ere I can repeat this curse again, 
Even in so short a space, my woman's heart 
Grossly grew captive to his honey words, 
And prov'dthe subject of mine own soul's curse : 
"Which ever since hath held mine eyes from 

rest; 
For never yet one hour in his bed 
Did I enjoy the golden dew of sleep, 
But with his timorous dreams was still awak'd. 
Besides, he hates me for my father Warwick ; 
And will, no doubt, shortly be rid of me. 

K. RICHARD III., A. 4, S. 1, 



UNCERTAINTY OE SECULAR 
OPINIONS. 

Wherefore rejoice? WTiat conquest brings 

he home ? 
What tributaries follow him to Home, 
To grace in captive bonds his chariot wheels ? 
Tou blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless 

things ! 
0, you hard hearts, you cruel men of Borne, 
Knew you not Pompey ? Many a time and oft 
Have you climb 'd up to walls and battlements, 
To towers and windows, yea, to chimney-tops, 



6o8 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Your infants in your arms, and there have sat 
The live-long day, with patient expectation, 
To see great Pompey pass the streets of Pome : 
And when you saw his chariot but appear, 
Have you not made an universal shout, 
That Tiber trembled underneath her banks, 
To hear the replication of your sounds, 
Made in her concave shores ? 
And do you now put on your best attire ? 
And do you now cull out a holiday ? 
And do you now strew flowers in his way, 
That comes in triumph over Pompey' s blood ? 
Be gone ; 

Run to your houses, fall upon your knees, 
Pray to the gods to intermit the plague 
That needs must light on this ingratitude. 

JULIUS C-ESAB, A. 1, 3. 1. 



UNION IS STRENGTH. 

To wisdom he's a fool that will not yield. 
Love us, we you, and we'll clasp hands ; 
"When peers thus knit, a kingdom ever stands. 

PERICLES, A. 2, S. 4. 



UNMISTAKABLE SIGNS OF 

NATURE. 

It is yours ; 
And, might we lay the old proverb to your 

charge, 
So like you, 'tis the worse. — Behold, my lords, 
Although the print be little, the whole matter 
And copy of the father : eye, nose, lip, 
The trick of his frown, his forehead ; nay, the 

valley, 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 609 

The pretty dimples of his chin, and cheek ; his 
smiles ; 

The very mould and frame of hand, nail, fin- 
ger :— 

And thou, good goddess nature, which hast 
made it 

So like to him that got it, if thou hast 

The ordering of the mind too, 'mongst all colours 

No yellow in't ; lest she suspect, as he does, 

Her children not her husband's ! 

winter's tale, a. 2, s. 3. 



ANCIENT ROMAN SIGNS OF 
TROUBLOUS TIMES. 

Casca. Who ever knew the heavens menace 

so? 
Cassius. Those that have known the earth 

so full of faults. 
Eor my part, I have walk'd about the streets, 
Submitting me unto the perilous night ; 
And, thus unbraced, Casca, as you see, 
Have bar'd my bosom to the thunder-stone : 
And, when the cross-blue lightning seem'd to 

open 
The breast of heaven, I did present myself 
Even in the aim and very flash of it. 
You are dull, Casca ; and those sparks of life 
That should be in a Roman, you do want, 
Or else you use not : Tou look pale, and gaze, 
And put on fear, and cast yourself in wonder, 
To see the strange impatience of the heavens : 
But if you would consider the true cause, 
Why all these fires, why all these gliding ghosts, 
Why birds and beasts, from quality and kind ; 
2 B 



6 1 o THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Why old men fools, and children calculate : 
"Why all these things change, from their ordi- 
nance, 
Their natures, and pre-formed faculties, 
To monstrous quality ; why, you shall find, 
That heaven hath infus'd them with these 

spirits, 
To make them instruments of fear, and warning, 
Unto some monstrous state. Now could I, 

Casca, 
Name to thee a man most like this dreadful 

night ; 
That thunders, lightens, opens graves, and roars 
As doth the lion in the Capitol : 
A man no mightier than thyself, or me, 
In personal action ; yet prodigious grown, 
And fearful, as these strange eruptions are. 

JULIUS CiESAR, A. 1, S. 3. 



USE AND ABUSE OF CEREMONY. 

Ceeemoky 
Was but devis'd at first, to set a gloss 
On faint deeds, hollow welcomes, 
Recanting goodness, sorry ere 'tis shown ; 
Rut where there is true friendship, there needs 

none. 
Pray, sit ; more welcome are ye to my fortunes, 
Than my fortunes to me. 

TIMON OF ATHENS, A. 1, S. 2. 



USE AND ABUSE OF OATHS. 

It is great sin, to swear unto a sin ; 
But greater sin, to keep a sinful oath. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 6 1 1 

"Who can be bound by any solemn vow 

To do a murderous deed, to rob a man, 

To force a spotless virgin's chastity, 

To reave the orphan of his patrimony, 

To wring the widow from her custom' d right ; 

And have no other reason for this wrong, 

But that he was bound by a solemn oath ? 

E. HEXEI VI., PART II., A. 5, S. 1. 



TITTERINGS OF THE HEART. 

Lucius. Come hither, boy; come, come, and 

learn of us 
To melt in showers : Thy grandsire lov'd thee 

well : 
Many a time he danc'd thee on his knee, 
Sung thee asleep, his loving breast thy pillow ; 
Many a matter hath he told to thee, 
Meet, and agreeing with thine infancy ; 
In that respect then, like a loving child, 
Shed yet some small drops from thy tender 

spring, 
Because kind nature doth require it so : 
Friends should associate friends in grief and woe: 
Bid him farewell ; commit him to the grave ; 
Do him that kindness, and take leave of him. 
Bot. O grandsire, grandsire ! even with all 

my heart 
"Would I were dead, so you did live again ! 
O lord, I cannot speak to him for weeping ; 
My tears will choke me, if I ope my mouth. 

TITUS ANDRONICCS, A. 5, S.3. 



612 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 



VALUE OF CHARACTER 

Reputation, reputation, reputation! 0, I 
have lost my reputation ! I have lost the im- 
mortal part, sir, of myself, and what remains is 
bestial. 

OTHELLO, A. 2, S. 3. 



VARIATIONS OF CLIMATE. 

Dieu de lattailes ! where have they this mettle ? 
Is not their climate foggy, raw, and dull ? 
On whom, as in despite, the sun looks pale, 
Killing their fruit with frowns? Can sodden 

water, 
A drench for sur-rein'd jades, their barley broth, 
Decoct their cold blood to such valiant heat ? 
And shall our quick blood, spirited with wine, 
Seem frosty ? O, for honour of our land, 
Let us not hang like roping icicles 
Upon our houses' thatch, whiles a more frosty 

people 
Sweat drops of gallant youth in our rich fields. 

K. HENRY V., A. 3, S. 5. 



VIRGIN FRIENDSHIP. 

Dear sovereign, hear me speak. 

I did not then entreat to have her stay ; 

It was your pleasure, and your own remorse : 

I was too young that time to value her, 

But now I know her ; if she be a traitor, 

"Why so am I : we still have slept together, 

Rose at an instant, learn'd, play'd, eat together; 

And wheresoe'er we went, like Juno's swans, 

Still we went coupled, and inseparable. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 6 1 3 

Shall we be sunder' d ? shall we part, sweet girl ? 
No ; let my father seek another heir. 
Therefore devise with me, how we may fly, 
Whither to go, and what to bear with us : 
And do not seek to take your change upon you, 
To bear your griefs yourself, and leave me out ; 
For, by this heaven, now at our sorrows pale, 
Say what thou canst, I'll go along with thee. 

AS YOU LIKE IT, A. 1, S. 3. 



RANKS AND DEGREES. 

Though mean and mighty, rotting 
Together, have one dust ; yet reverence, 
(That angel of the world,) doth make distinction 
Of place 'tween high and low. Our foe was 

princely ; 
And though you took his life, as being our foe, 
Tet bury him as a prince. 

CYMBELINE. A. 4, S. 7. 



VIRTUE NOT LOCAL. 

GrODS, what lies I have heard ! 

Our courtiers say, all's savage, but at court : 

Experience, 0, thou disprov'st report ! 

The imperious seas breed monsters ; for the dish, 

Poor tributary rivers as sweet fish. 

CYMBELINE, A. 4, S. 2. 



VIRTUE OF PATIENCE. 

How poor are they, that have not patience !- 
What wound did ever heal, but by degrees ? 



6i 4 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Thou know'st, we work by wit, and not by 

witchcraft ; 
And wit depends on dilatory time. 

OTHELLO, A. 2, S. 3. 



VISITING. 

I have heard it said, — Unbidden guests 
Are often welcomest, when they are gone. 

K. HENRY VI., PART I., A. 2, S. 2. 



INDIVIDUALITY OF CHARACTER. 

All his behaviours did make their retire 
To the court of his eye, peeping through desire : 
His heart, like an agate, with your print impress' d, 
Proud with his form, in his eye pride express 5 d : 
His tongue, all impatient to speak and not see, 
Did stumble with haste in his eye-sight to be ; 
All senses to that sense did make their repair, 
To feel only looking on fairest of fair : 
Methought all his senses were lock'd in his eye, 
As jewels in crystal for some prince to buy ; 
Who, tend'ring their own worth, from where 

they were glass' d, 
Did point you to buy them, along as you pass'd. 
His face's own margent did quote such amazes, 
That all eyes saw his eyes enchanted with gazes : 
I'll give you Aquitain, and all that is his, 
An you give him for my sake but one loving kiss. 

love's labour's LOST, A. 2, s. 1. 



WILLIAM SHAKjESPEABjE. 6 1 5 

VULGAR OPINION. 

Why, am I dead ? do I not breathe a man ? 
Ah, simple men, you know not what you swear. 
Look, as I blow this feather from my face, 
And* as the air blows it to me again, 
Obeying with my wind when I do blow, 
And yielding to another when it blows, 
Commanded always by the greater gust ; 
Such is the lightness of you common men. 
But do not break your oaths ; for, of that sin 
My mild entreaty shall not make you guilty. 
Go where you will, the king shall be commanded; 
And be you kings ; command, and I'll obey. 

K. HENRY VI., PART III., A. 3, S. 1. 



WEALTH AND ITS KEEPING. 

Excellent ! Tour lordship's a goodly villain. 
The devil knew not what he did, when he made 
man politick ; he cross' d himself by't : and I 
cannot think, but, in the end, the villainies of 
man will set him clear. How fairly this lord 
strives to appear foul ! takes virtuous copies to 
be wicked; like those that, under hot ardent 
zeal, would set whole realms on fire. 
Of such a nature is his politick love. 
This was my lord's best hope ; now all are fled, 
Save the gods only : Now his friends are dead, 
Doors, that were ne'er acquainted with their 

wards 
Many a bounteous year, must be employed 
Now to guard sure their master. 
And this is all a liberal course allows ; 
"Who cannot keep his wealth, must keep his 

house. 

TIMON OF ATHENS, A. 3, S, 3. 



6 1 6 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

WHAT MAY BE EXCUSED IN A 
PRINCE, MAY NOT IN A KING. 

Palstait. My king ! my Jove ! I speak to 

thee, my heart ! 
Kusra. I know thee not, old man : Fall to 
thy prayers ; 
How ill white hairs become a fool, and jester ! 
I have long dream' d of such a kind of man, 
So surfeit-sweird, so old, and so profane ; 
But, being awake, I do despise my dream. 
Make less thy body, hence, and more thy grace ; 
Leave gormandizing ; know, the grave doth gape 
Por thee thrice wider than for other men : — 
Reply not to me with a fool-born jest ; 
Presume not, that I am the thing I was : 
Por heaven doth know, so shall the world 

perceive, 
That I have turn'd away my former self; 
So will I those that kept me company. 
When thou dost hear I am as I have been, 
Approach me ; and thou shalt be as thou wast, 
The tutor and the feeder of my riots : 
Till then, I banish thee, on pain of death, — 
As I have done the rest of my misleaders, — 
Not to come near our person by ten mile. 
Por competence of life, I will allow you, 
That lack of means enforce you not to evil : 
And, as we hear you do reform yourselves, 
"We will, — according to your strength, and quali- 
ties, — 
Give you advancement. 

K. HENRY IV., PART II., A. 5, S. 5. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 6 1 7 

WHEN IGNORANCE IS BLISS 'TIS 
FOLLY TO BE WISE. 

How bless'd am I 
In my just censure ! in my true opinion ! — 
Alack, for lesser knowledge ! — How accurs'd, 
In being so blest ! — There may be in the cup 
A spider steep' d, and one may drink ; depart, 
And yet partake no venom ; for his knowledge 
Is not infected : but if one present 
The abhorr'd ingredient to his eye, make known 
How he hath drank, he cracks his gorge, his sides, 
With violent hefts : — I have drank, and seen the 

spider. 
Camillo was his help in this, his pander : — 
There is a plot against my life, my crown ; 
All's true that is mistrusted : — that false villain, 
Whom I employ' d, was pre-employ'd by him: 
He has discover' d my design, and I 
Remain a pinch' d thing ; yea, a very trick 
Tor them to play at will. 

winter's tale, a. 2, s. 1. 



WHEN VALOUR PREYS ON REASON, 
IT EATS THE SWORD IT FIGHTS 
WITH. 

Antony. I am satisfied. 

Ccesar sits down in Alexandria ; where 
I will oppose his fate. Our force by land 
Hath nobly held : our sever' d navy too 
Have knit again, and fleet, threat'ning most sea- 
like. 



618 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Where hast thou been, my heart ? — Dost thou 

hear, lady ? 
If from the field I shall return once more 
To kiss these lips, I will appear in blood ; 
I and my sword will earn our chronicle ; 
There is hope in it yet. 
I will be treble-sinew' d, hearted, breath' d, 
And fight maliciously ; for when mine hours 
"Were nice and lucky, men did ransome lives 
Of me for jests ; but now, I'll set my teeth, 
And send to darkness all that stop me. — Come, 
Let's have one other gaudy night : call to me 
All my sad captains, fill our bowls ; once more *, 
Let's mock the midnight bell. 
We'll yet do well. 

Cleopatea. Call all his noble captains to 

my lord. 
Ant. Do so, we'll speak to them ; and to- 
night I'll force 
The wine peep through their scars. — Come on, 

my queen ; 
There's sap in't yet. The next time I do fight, 
I'll make death love me ; for I will contend 
Even with his pestilent scythe. 

[Exeunt Antony and Cleopatra. 
Enobarbtts. Now he'll outstare the light- 
ning. To be furious, 
Is, to be frighted out of fear : and in that mood, 
The dove will peck the estridge ; and I see still, 
A diminution in our captain's brain 
Eestores his heart: When valour preys on 

reason, 
It eats the sword it fights with. I will seek 
Some way to leave him. 

ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA, A. 3, S. 11. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 6 1 9 

WHERE INEQUALITY EXISTS 
SAFETY LIES IN FEAE. 

The]s t if he says, he loves you, 
It fits your wisdom so far to believe it, 
As he in his particular act and place 
May give his saying deed ; which is no further, 
Than the main voice of Denmark goes withal. 
Then weigh what loss your honour may sustain, 
If with too credent ear you list his songs ; 
Or lose your heart ; or your chaste treasure open 
To his unmaster'd importunity. 
Fear it, Ophelia, fear it, my dear sister ; 
And keep you in the rear of your affection, 
Out of the shot and danger of desire. 
The chariest maid is prodigal enough, 
If she unmask her beauty to the moon : 
Virtue itself scapes not calumnious strokes : 
The canker galls the infants of the spring, 
Too oft before their buttons be disclos'd ; 
And in the morn and liquid dew of youth 
Contagious blastments are most imminent. 
Be wary, then : best safety lies in fear ; 
Youth to itself rebels, though none else near. 

HAMLET, A. 1, S. 3. 



WHERE NATURE HAS BEEN BOUN- 
TIFUL FAITH SHOULD PRAY 
MORE URGENTLY. 

Rosalikd. "What shall be our sport then ? 

Celia. Let us sit and mock the good house- 
wife, Fortune, from her wheel, that her gifts may 
henceforth be bestowed equally. 

Ros. I would, we could do so ; for her bene- 



6zo THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

fits are mightily misplaced : and the bountiful 
blind woman doth most mistake in her gifts to 
women. 

Cel. 'Tis true: for those, that she mates 
fair, she scarce makes honest; and those, that 
she makes honest, she makes very ill-favour' dly. 

Eos. Nay, now thou goest from fortune's 
office to nature's : fortune reigns in gifts of the 
world, not in the lineaments of nature. 

Cel. No? When nature hath made a fair 
creature, may she not by fortune fall into the 
fire? 

AS YOU LIKE IT, A. 1, S. 2. 



WHERE THERE IS NO MERCY 
JUSTICE SOMETIMES DESCENDS 
TO TYRANNY. 

Akoelo. We must not make a scare-crow 
of the law, 
Setting it up to fear the birds of prey, 
And let it keep one shape, till custom make it 
Their perch, and not their terror. 

Escaltjs. Ay, but yet 

Let us be keen, and rather cut a little, 
Than fall, and bruise to death: Alas! this 

gentleman, 
Whom I would save, had a most noble father. 
Let but your honour know, 
(Whom I believe to be most strait in virtue,) 
That, in the working of your own affections, 
Had time coher'd with place, or place with 

wishing, 
Or that the resolute acting of your blood 



Could have attain' d the effect of your own 

purpose, 
"Whether you had not sometime in your life 
Err'd in this point which now you censure him, 
And pull'd the law upon you. 

Anq. 'Tis one thing to be tempted, JZscalus, 
Another thing to fall. I not deny, 
The jury, passing on the prisoner's life, 
May, in the sworn twelve, have a thief or two 
Guiltier than him they try : What's open made 

to justice, 
That justice seizes. What know the laws, 
That thieves do pass on thieves? 'Tis very 

pregnant, 
The jewel that we find, we stoop and take it, 
Because we see it ; but what we do not see, 
AYe tread upon, and never think of it. 
You may not so extenuate his offence, 
For I have had such faults ; but rather tell me, 
When I. that censure him, do so offend, 
Let mine own judgment pattern out my death, 
And nothing come in partial. Sir, he must die. 
Escal. Be it as your wisdom will. 
Aistg-. Where is the provost ? 

Peotost. Here, if it like your honour. 
Asg. See that Claudio 

Be executed by nine to-morrow morning : 
Bring him his confessor, let him be prepar'd; 
For that's the utmost of his pilgrimage. 

[Mxit Provost. 
Escal. Well, heaven forgive him! and for- 
give us all ! 
Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall : 
Some run from brakes of vice, and answer none ; 
And some condemned for a fault alone. 

MEASURE FOB, MEASURE, A. 2, S. 1. 



622 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

WHOLESOME OBEDIENCE THE 

GRAND LAW OF NATURE. 

Why, headstrong liberty is lash'd with woe. 
There's nothing, situate under heaven's eye, 
But hath his bound, in earth, in sea, in sky : 
The beasts, the fishes, and the winged fowls, 
Are their males' subject, and at their controls : 
Men, more divine, the masters of all these, 
Lords of the wide world, and wild wat'ry seas, 
Indued with intellectual sense and souls, 
Of more pre-eminence than fish and fowls, 
Are masters to their females and their lords : 
Then let your will attend on their accords. 

COMEDY OF ERRORS, A. 2, S. 1. 



WIELDING OF MATERIAL AND 

ABSTRACT POWER. 

Agkrippa. To hold you in perpetual amity, 
To make you brothers, and to knit your hearts 
With an un-slipping knot, take Antony 
Octavia to his wife : whose beauty claims 
No worse a husband than the best of men ; 
Whose virtue, and whose general graces, speak 
That which none else can utter. By this marriage, 
All little jealousies, which now seem great, 
And all great fears, which now import their 

dangers, 
Would then be nothing: truths would be but 

tales, 
Where now half tales be truths : her love to both, 
Would, each to other, and all loves to both, 
Draw after her. Pardon what I have spoke : 
For 'tis a studied, not a present thought, 
By duty ruminated. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 623 

ANTONY. Will Ccesar speak ? 

Cjbsab. Not till he hears how Antony is 
touch' d 
With what is spoke already. 

Ant. What power is in Agrippa, 

If I would say, Agrippa, be it so, 
To make this good ? 

C^s. The power of Ccesar, and 

His power unto Octavia. 

Ant. May I never, 

To this good purpose, that so fairly shows, 
Dream of impediment ! — Let me have thy hand : 
Further this act of grace ; and, from this hour, 
The heart of brothers govern in our loves, 
And sway our great designs. 

Cjss. There is my hand. 

A sister I bequeath you, whom no brother 
Did ever love so dearly : Let her live 
To join our kingdoms and our hearts ; and never 
Fly off our loves again. 

ANTONY AND CLEOPATBA, A. 2, S. 2. 



WIFE'S LOGIC. 

I do think, it is their husbands' faults, 
If wives do fall : Say, that they slack their duties, 
And pour out treasures into foreign laps ; 
Or else break out in peevish jealousies, 
Throwing restraint upon us ; or, say, they strike 

us, 
Or scant our former having in despite ; 
Why, we have galls ; and, though w^e have some 

grace, 
Yet we have some revenge. Let husbands know, 



624 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Their wives have sense like them : they see, and 

smell, 
And have their palates both for sweet and sour, 
As husbands have. What is it that they do, 
"When they change us for others ? Is it sport ? 
I think, it is ; And doth affection breed it ? 
I think, it doth ; Is't frailty, that thus errs ? 
It is so too : And have not we affections ? 
Desires for sport ? and frailty, as men have ? 
Then, let them use us well : else, let them know, 
The ills we do, their ills instruct us to. 

OTHELLO, A. 4, S. 3. 



WINNING THE SHREW. 

GrEEMio. But, will you woo this wild cat ? 

Petrtjchio. Will I live ? 

Why came I hither, but to that intent ? 
Think you, a little din can daunt mine ears ; 
Have I not in my time heard lions roar ? 
Have I not heard the sea, puff'd up with winds, 
Eage like an angry boar, chafed with sweat ? 
Have I not heard great ordnance in the field, 
And heaven's artillery thunder in the skies ? 
Have I not in a pitched battle heard 
Loud 'larums, neighing steeds, and trumpets' 

clang ? 
And do you tell me of a woman's tongue ; 
That gives not half so great a blow to the ear, 
As will a chesnut in a farmer's fire ? 
Tush ! tush ! fear boys with bugs. 

Hortensio. I promis'd, we would be con- 
tributors, 
And bear his charge of wooing, whatsoe'er. 



Gee. And so we will ; provided, that he win 

her. 
Gtimjmio. I would, I were as sure of a good 

dinner. 

TAMING OF THE SHREW, A. 1, S. 2. 



WIT AND VALOUR. 

That Julius Ccesar was a famous man : 
With what his valour did enrich his wit, 
His wit set down to make his valour live : 
Death makes no conquest of this conqueror ; 
For now he lives in fame, though not in life. 

K. RICHARD III., A. 3, S. 1. 



WITHOUT CONSCIENCE BLOODY 
DEEDS ENSUE. 

The tyrannous and bloody act is done ; 
The most arch deed of piteous massacre, 
That ever yet this land was guilty of. 
Dighton, and Forrest, whom I did suborn 
To do this piece of ruthless butchery, 
Albeit they were flesh' d villains, bloody dogs, 
Melting with tenderness and mild compassion, 
Wept like two children, in their death's sad 

story. 
O thus, quoth Dighton, lay tlie gentle tabes, — 
Thus, thus, quoth Forrest, girdling one another 
Within their alabaster innocent arms : 
Their lips were four red roses on a stalk, 
Which, in their summer beauty, hissed each other, 
A booh oj prayers on their pillow lay : 
Which once, quoth Forrest , almost changed my 

mind; 

2 s 



626 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

But, 0, the devil — there the villain stopp'd ; 
When Dighton thus told on, — we smothered 
The most replenished sweet work of nature, 
That, from the prime creation, e'er she framed. — 
Hence both are gone with conscience and remorse: 
They could not speak ; and so I left them both, 
To bear this tidings to the bloody king. 

K. RICHARD III., A. 4, S. 3. 



WITHOUT OBEDIENCE TO HEAVEN'S 
LAWS KINGS ARE NOT SECURE. 

K. John. Here once again we sit, once again 
crown' d, 
And look'd upon, I hope, with cheerful eyes. 

Pembroke . This once again, but that your 
highness pleas' d, 
Was once superflous : you were crown'd before, 
And that high royalty was ne'er pluck' d off; 
The faiths of men ne'er stained with revolt ; 
Fresh expectation troubled not the land, 
With any long'd-for change, or better state. 

Salisbury. Therefore, to be possess'd with 
double pomp, 
To guard a title that was rich before, 
To gild refined gold, to paint the lily, 
To throw a perfume on the violet, 
To smooth the ice, or add another hue 
Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light 
To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish, 
Is wasteful, and ridiculous excess. 

Pem. But that your royal pleasure must be 
done, 
This act is as an ancient tale new told ; 
And, in the last repeating, troublesome, 



Being urged at a time unseasonable. 

Sal. In this, the antique and well-noted face 
Of plain old form is much disfigured ; 
And, like a shifted wind unto a sail, 
It makes the course of thoughts to fetch about ; 
Startles and frights consideration ; 
Makes sound opinion sick, and truth suspected, 
For putting on so new a fashion' d robe. 

Pem. When workmen strive to do better 
than well, 
They do confound their skill in covetousness : 
And, oftentimes, excusing of a fault, 
Doth make the fault the worse by the excuse ; 
As patches, set upon a little breach, 
Discredit more in hiding of the fault, 
Than did the fault before it was so patch' d. 
Sal. To this effect, before you were new- 
crown' d, 
We breath' d our counsel: but it pleas'd your 

highness 
To overbear it ; and we are all well pleas'd ; 
Since all and every part of what we would, 
Doth make a stand at what your highness will. 
K. Johk". Some reasons of this double coro- 
nation 
I have possess' d you with, and think them strong; 
And more, more strong, (when lesser is my fear,) 
I shall indue you with : Mean time, but ask 
What you would have reform' d, that is not well; 
And well shall you perceive, how willingly 
I will both hear and grant you your requests. 
Pem. Then I, (as one that am the tongue of 
these, 
To sound the purposes of all their hearts,) 
Both for myself and them, (but, chief of all, 
Tour safety, for the which myself and them 



628 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Bend their best studies,) heartily request 
The enfranchisement of Arthur ; whose restraint 
Doth move the murmuring lips of discontent 
To break into this dangerous argument : — 
If, what in rest you have, in right you hold, 
Why then your fears, (which, as they say, attend 
The steps of wrong,) should move you to mew up 
Tour tender kinsman, and to choke his days 
"With barbarous ignorance, and deny his youth 
The rich advantage of good exercise ? 
That the time's enemies may not have this 
To grace occasions, let it be our suit, 
That you have bid us ask his liberty ; 
"Which for our goods we do no further ask, 
Than whereupon our weal, on you depending, 
Counts it your weal, he have his liberty. 

K. John. Let it be so ; I do commit his 
youth 

Enter Hubert. 
To your direction. — Hubert, what news with you? 

Pem. This is the man should do the bloody 
deed; 
He show'd his warrant to a friend of mine : 
The image of a wicked heinous fault 
Lives in his eye ; that close-aspect of his 
Does show the mood of a much-troubled breast ; 
And I do fearfully believe, 'tis done, 
What we so fear'd be had a charge to do. 

Sal. The colour of the king doth come and 

Between his purpose and his conscience, 
Like heralds 'twixt two dreadful battles set : 
His passion is so ripe, it needs must break. 
Pem. And, when it breaks, I fear, will issue 
thence 
The foul corruption of a sweet child's death. 



K. Joh^. "We cannot hold mortality's strong 
hand : — 
Good lords, although my will to give is living, 
The suit which you demand is gone and dead : 
He tells us, Arthur is deeeas'd to-night. 

Sal. Indeed, we fear'd, his sickness was past 

cure. 
Pem. Indeed, we heard how near his death 
he was, 
Before the child himself felt he was sick : 
This must be answer' d, either here, or hence. 
K. JoHis*. "Why do you bend such solemn 
brows on me ? 
Think you, I bear the shears of destiny ? 
Have I commandment on the pulse of life ? 

Sal. It is apparent foul-play ; and 'tis shame, 
That greatness should so grossly offer it : 
So thrive it in your game ! and so farewell. 
Pem. Stay yet, lord Salisbury ; I'll go with 
thee, 
And find the inheritance of this poor child, 
His little kingdom of a forced grave. 
That blood, which ow'd the breadth of all this isle, 
Three foot of it doth hold ; Bad world the while ! 
This must not be thus borne : this will break out 
To all our sorrows, and ere long, I doubt. 

[Exeunt Lords. 
K. Johk. They burn in indignation; I 
repent ; 
There is no sure foundation set on blood ; 
No certain life achiev'd by others' death. 

KING JOHN, A. 4, S. 2. 



630 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

WIVES SHOULD PERSUADE RATHER 
THAN OVERRULE. 

Petkttchio. "Well, come, my Kate; we will 
unto your father's, 
Even in these honest mean habiliments ; 
Our purses shall be proud, our garments poor : 
Eor 'tis the mind that makes the body rich ; 
And as the sun breaks through the darkest 

clouds, 
So honour peereth in the meanest habit. 
What, is the jay more precious than the lark, 
Because his feathers are more beautiful ? 
Or is the adder better than the eel, 
Because his painted skin contents the eye ? 
O, no, good Kate ; neither art thou the worse 
Eor this poor furniture, and mean array. 
If thou account' st it shame, lay it on me : 
And therefore, frolick ; we will hence forthwith, 
To feast and sport us at thy father's house. — 
Go, call my men, and let us straight to him ; 
And bring our horses unto Long-lane end, 
There will we mount, and thither walk on foot. — 
Let's see ; I think, 'tis now some seven o'clock, 
And well we may come there by dinner time. 

Kathehike. I dare assure you, sir, 'tis 
almost two ; 
And 'twill be supper-time, ere you come there. 

Pet. It shall be seven, ere I go to horse : 
Look, what I speak, or do, or think to do, 
Tou are still crossing it. — Sirs, left alone : 
I will not go to-day ; and ere I do, 
It shall be what o'clock I say it is. 

Hortensio. Why, so ! this gallant will com- 
mand the sun. 

TAMING OF THE SHREW, A. 4, S. 3. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 63 1 

WOMAN REIGNS WHERE THE 
HEART BEATS HIGH. 

Angelo. When I would pray and think, I 

think and pray- 
To several subjects: heaven hath my empty 

words ; 
Whilst my invention, hearing not my tongue, 
Anchors on Isabel : Heaven in my mouth, 
As if I did but only chew his name ; 
And in my heart, the strong and swelling evil 
Of my conception : The state whereon I studied, 
Is like a good thing, being often read, 
Grown fear'd and tedious ; yea, my gravity, 
Wherein (let no man hear me) I take pride, 
Could I, with boot, change for an idle plume, 
Which the air beats for vain. O place ! form ! 
How often dost thou with thy case, thy habit, 
Wrench awe from fools, and tie the wiser souls 
To thy false seeming? Blood, thou still art 

blood : 
Let's write good angel on the devil's horn, 
'Tis not the devil's crest. 

Enter Servant. 

How now, who's there ? 

Seeyant. One Isabel, a sister, 

Desires access to you. 

Afg. Teach her the way. 

O heavens ! [Exit Servant. 

Why does my blood thus muster to my heart : 
Making both it unable for itself, 
And dispossessing all the other parts 
Of necessary fitness ? 

So play the foolish throngs with one that swoons; 
Come all to help him, and so stop the air 



632 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

By which he should revive : and even so 
The general, subject to a well-wish' d king, 
Quit their own part, and with obsequious fond- 
ness 
Crowd to his presence, where their untaught 

love 
Must needs appear offence. 

MEASURE FOR MEASURE, A. 2, S. 4. 



WOMAN'S GREAT MISTAKE, OR THE 
MAID THE BETTER COUNSELLOR. 

Julia. Counsel, Lucetta ! gentle girl, assist 
me! 
And, even in kind love, I do conjure thee, — 
Who art the table wherein all my thoughts 
Are visibly character' d and engrav'd, — 
To lesson me, and tell me some good mean, 
How, with my honour, I may undertake 
A journey to my loving Proteus. 

Lucetta. Alas ! the way is wearisome and 
long. 

Jul. A true-devoted pilgrim is not weary 
To measure kingdoms with his feeble steps ; 
Much less shall she, that hath love's wings, to 

And when the flight is made to one so dear, 
Of such divine perfection, as sir Proteus. 

Luc. Better forbear, till Proteus make re- 
turn. 
Jul. O, know'st thou not, his looks are my 
soul's food? 
Pity the dearth that I have pined in, 
By longing for that food so long a time. 
Didst thou but know the inly touch of love, 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 63 3 

Thou would' st as soon go kindle fire with snow, 
As seek to quench the fire of love with words. 

Luc. I do not seek to quench your love's 
hot fire ; 
But qualify the fire's extreme rage, 
Lest it should burn above the bounds of reason. 

Jul. The more thou dam'st it up, the more 
it burns ; 
The current, that with gentle murmur glides, 
Thou know'st, being stopp'd, impatiently doth 

rage; 
But, when his fair course is not hindered, 
He makes sweet musick with the enamel 5 d stones, 
Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge 
He overtaketh in his pilgrimage ; 
And so by many winding nooks he strays, 
With willing sport, to the wild ocean. 
Then let me go, and hinder not my course : 
I'll be as patient as a gentle stream, 
And make a pastime of each weary step, 
Till the last step have brought me to my love ; 
And there I'll rest, as, after much turmoil, 
A blessed soul doth in Elysium. 

Ltjc. But in what habit will you go along ? 

Jul. Not like a woman ; for I would prevent 
The loose encounters of lascivious men : 
Gentle Lucetta, fit me with such weeds 
As may beseem some well-reputed page. 

Luc. Why then your ladyship must cut your 
hair. 

Jul. No, girl ; I'll knit it up in silken strings, 
With twenty odd-conceited true-love knots : 
To be fantastick, may become a youth 
Of greater time than I shall show to be. 
Lucetta, as thou lov'st me, let me have 
What thou think' st meet, and is most mannerly : 



634 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

But tell me, wench, how will the world repute 

me, 
For undertaking so unstaid a journey ? 
I fear me, it will make me seandaliz'd. 

Luc. If you think so, then stay at home, and 

go not. 
Jul. Nay, that I will not. 
Ltjo. Then never dream on infamy, but go. 
If Proteus like your journey, when you come, 
No matter who's displeas'd when you are gone: 
I fear me, he will scarce be pleas' d withal. 

Jul. That is the least, Lucetta, of my fear : 
A thousand oaths, an ocean of his tears, 
And instances as infinite of love, 
"Warrant me welcome to my Proteus. 

Luc. All these are servants to deceitful 

men. 
Jul. Base men, that use them to so base 
effect ! 
But truer stars did govern Proteus'* birth : 
His words are bonds, his oaths are oracles ; 
His love sincere, his thoughts immaculate ; 
His tears, pure messengers sent from his heart ; 
His heart, as far from fraud, as heaven from 
earth. 
Ltjc. Pray heaven, he prove so, when you 

come to him ! 
Jul. Now, as thou lov'st me, do him not 
that wrong, 
To bear a hard opinion of his truth : 
Only deserve my love, by loving him ; 
And presently go with me to my chamber, 
To take a note of what I stand in need of, 
To furnish me upon my longing journey. 
All that is mine I leave at thy dispose, 
My goods, my lands, my reputation ; 



WILLIAM SRAKJESPEABK 635 



Only, in lieu thereof, dispatch me hence : 
Come, answer not, but to it presently ; 
I am impatient of my tarriance. 

TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA, A. 2, S. 7. 



WOMAN'S LOVE. 

Women fear too much, even as they love ; 
And women's fear and love hold quantity ; 
In neither aught, or in extremity. 
Now, what my love is, proof hath made you 

know; 
And as my love is siz'd, my fear is so. 
Where love is great, the littlest doubts are fear ; 
Where little fears grow great, great love grows 

there. 

HAMLET, A. 3, S. 2. 



WOMAN'S LOVE AT PARTING. 

Theee cannot be a pinch in death 
More sharp than this. 

CYMBELINE, A. 1, S. 2. 



WOMAN'S SOURCE OF EARTHLY 

HAPPINESS. 

Helena. Demetrius loves your fair : happy 
fair! 

Tour eyes are lode-stars; and your tongue's 
sweet air 

More tuneable than lark to shepherd's ear, 

When wheat is green, when hawthorn buds ap- 
pear. 

Sickness is catching ; 0, were favour so ! 

Tour's would I catch, fair Hermia ; ere I go, 



636 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

My ear should catch your voice, my eye your 

eye, 
My tongue should catch your tongue's sweet 

melody. 
Were the world mine, Demetrius being bated, 
The rest I'll give to be to you translated. 
O, teach me how you look ; and with what art 
You sway the motion of Demetrius' heart. 
Hermia. I frown upon him, yet he loves me 

still. 
Hel. 0, that your frowns would teach my 

smiles such skill ! 
Her. I give him curses, yet he gives me love. 
Hel. 0, that my prayers could such affection 

move ! 
Her. The more I hate, the more he follows 

me. 
Hel. The more I love, the more he hateth 

me. 
Her. His folly, Helena, is no fault of mine. 
Hel. None, but your beauty; 'Would that 
fault were mine ! 

MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM, A. 1, S. 1. 



WOMAN THE BETTER MAN. 

Woe the while ! 
O, cut my lace ; lest my heart, cracking it, 
Break too ! 

What studied torments, tyrant, hast for me ? 
What wheels? racks? fires? What flaying? 

boiling, 
In leads, or oils ? what old, or newer torture 
Must I receive ; whose every word deserves 
To taste of thy most worst ? Thy tyranny 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 637 

Together working with thy jealousies, — 
Fancies too weak for boys, too green and idle 
For girls of nine! — 0, think, what they have 

done, 
And then run mad, indeed ; stark mad ! for all 
Thy bygone fooleries were but spices of it. 
That thou betray' dst Polixenes, 'twas nothing; 
That did but show thee, of a fool, inconstant, 
And damnable ungrateful : nor was't much, 
Thou would' st have poison' d good Camillo's 

honour, 
To have him kill a king ; poor trespasses, 
More monstrous standing by : whereof I reckon 
The casting forth to crows thy baby daughter, 
To be or none, or little ; though a devil 
Would have shed water out of fire, ere don't : 
Nor is't directly laid to thee, the death 
Of the young prince; whose honourable thoughts 
(Thoughts high for one so tender,) cleft the 

heart 
That could conceive, a gross and foolish sire, 
Blemish' d his gracious dam : this is not, no, 
Laid to thy answer : But the last, — O, lords, 
When I have said, cry, woe! — the queen, the 

queen, 
The sweetest, dearest creature's dead ; and ven- 
geance for't 
Not dropp'd down yet. 

I say, she's dead : I'll swear' t : if word, nor oath, 
Prevail not, go and see : if you can bring 
Tincture, or lustre, in her lip, her eye, 
Heat outwardly, or breath within, I'll serve you 
As I would do the gods. — But, O thou tyrant ! 
Do not repent these things ; for they are heavier 
Than all thy woes can stir : therefore betake thee 
To nothing but despair. A thousand knees 



638 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Ten thousand years together, naked, fasting, 
Upon a barren mountain, and still winter 
In storm perpetual, could not move the gods 
To look that way thou wert. 

winter's tale, a. 3, s. 2. 

WOMAN VERSUS SECRETS. 

constancy, be strong upon my side ! 

Set a huge mountain 'tween my heart and tongue! 

1 have a man's mind, but a woman's might. 
How hard it is for women to keep counsel ! 

JULIUS C-ffiSAE, A. 2, S. 4. 



WOMEN JEALOUS OF THEIR 
HONOUR MUST FEAR FLATTERY. 

Proteus. Madam, good even to your lady- 



Silvia. I thank you for your musick, gentle- 
men: 
Who is that, that spake ? 

Pro. One, lady, if you knew his pure heart's 
truth, 
You'd quickly learn to know him by his voice. 
Sil. Sir Proteus, as I take it. 
Pro. Sir Proteus, gentle lady, and your 

servant. 
Sil. What is your will ? 
Pro. That I may compass yours. 

Sil. You have your wish ; my will is even 
this, — 
That presently you hie you home to bed. 
Thou subtle, perjur'd, false, disloyal man! 
Think' st thou, I am so shallow, so conceitless, 
To be seduced by thy flattery, 




That hast deceiv'd so many with thy vows ? 
Keturn, return, and make thy love amends. 
For me, — by this pale queen of night I swear, 
I am so far from granting thy request, 
That I despise thee for thy wrongful suit ; 
And by and by intend to chide myself, 
Even for this time I spend in talking to thee. 

Pro. I grant, sweet love, that I did love a 
lady ; 
But she is dead. 

Sil. Say, that she be; yet Valentine, thy 
friend, 
Survives ; to whom, thyself art witness, 
I am betroth' d : And art thou not asham'd 
To wrong him with thy importunaey ? 

Pro. I likewise hear, that Valentine is dead. 

Sil. And so, suppose, am I ; for in his grave, 
Assure thyself, my love is buried. 

Pro. Sweet lady, let me rake it from the 
earth. 

Sil. Go to thy lady's grave, and call her's 
thence ; 
Or, at the least, in her's sepulchre thine. 

Pro. Madam, if your heart be so obdurate, 
Vouchsafe me yet your picture for my love, 
The picture that is hanging in your chamber ; 
To that I'll speak, to that I'll sigh and weep : 
For, since the substance of your perfect self 
Is else devoted, I am but a shadow ; 
And to your shadow I will make true love. 

Sil. I am very loth to be your idol, sir ; 
But, since your falsehood shall become you well 
To worship shadows, and adore false shapes, 
Send to me in the morning, and I'll send it : 
And so, good rest. 

TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA, A. 4, S. 2. 



640 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

WOMAN'S SOCIETY INDISPENSABLE 

TO MAN'S HAPPINESS. 

0, 'tis more than need ! — 
Have at you then, affection's men at arms : 
Consider, what you first did swear unto ; — 
To fast, — to study, — and to see no woman ; — 
Plat treason 'gainst the kingly state of youth. 
Say, can you fast ? your stomachs are too young ; 
And abstinence engenders maladies. 
And where that you have vow'd to study, lords, 
In that each of you hath forsworn his book : 
Can you still dream, and pore, and thereon look ? 
Por when would you, my lord, or you, or you, 
Have found the ground of study's excellence, 
"Without the beauty of a woman's face ? 
Prom women's eyes this doctrine I derive: 
They are the ground, the books, the Academes, 
Prom whence doth spring the true Promethean 

fire. 
Why, universal plodding prisons up 
The nimble spirits in the arteries ; 
As motion, and long during-action, tires 
The sinewy vigour of the traveller. 
Now, for not looking on a woman's face, 
Tou have in that forsworn the use of eyes ; 
And study too, the causer of your vow : 
Por where is any author in the world, 
Teaches such beauty as a woman's eye ? 
Learning is but an adjunct to our self, 
And where we are, our learning likewise is. 
Then, when ourselves we see in ladies' eyes, 
Do we not likewise see our learning there ? 
O, we have made a vow to study, lords ; 
And in that vow we have forsworn our books ; 
Por when would you, my liege, or you, or you, 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 641 

In leaden contemplation, have found out 
Such fiery numbers, as the prompting eyes 
Of beauteous tutors have enriched you with ? 
Other slow hearts entirely keep the brain ; 
And therefore finding barren practisers, 
Scarce show a harvest of their heavy toil : 
But love, first learned in a lady's eyes, 
Lives not alone immured in the brain ; 
But with the motion of all elements, 
Courses as swift as thought in every power ; 
And gives to every power a double power, 
Above their functions and their offices, 
It adds a precious seeing to the eye ; 
A lover's eyes will gaze an eagle blind ; 
A lover's ear will hear the lowest sound, 
When the suspicious head of theft is stopp'd ; 
Love's feeling is more soft, and sensible, 
Than are the tender horns of cockled snails ; 
For valour, is not love a Hercules, 
Still climbing trees in the Hesperides ? 
Subtle as sphinx ; as sweet, and musical, 
As bright Apollo's lute, strung with his hair ; 
And, when love speaks, the voice of all the gods 
Makes heaven drowsy with the harmony. 
Never durst poet touch a pen to write, 
Until his ink were temper' d with love's sighs ; 
0, then his lines would ravish savage ears, 
And plant in tyrants mild humility. 
From women's eyes this doctrine I derive : 
They sparkle still the right Promethean fire ; 
They are the books, the arts, the Academes, 
That show, contain, and nourish all the world ; 
Else, none at all in aught proves excellent : 
Then fools you were these women to forswear ; 
Or, keeping what is sworn, you will prove fools 
For wisdom's sake, a word that all men love ; 
2t 



642 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 

Or for love's sake, a word that loves all men, 
Or for men's sate, the authors of these women ; 
Or women's sake, by whom we men are men ; 
Let us once lose our oaths, to find ourselves, 
Or else we lose ourselves to keep our oaths : 
It is religion to be thus forsworn : 
For charity itself fulfils the law ; 
And who can sever love from charity ? 

LOVES LABOURS LOST, A. 4, S. 3. 



WOOING, WEDDING, AND 

REPENTING. 

Hear me, Hero ; Wooing, wedding, and re- 
penting, is as a Scotch jig, a measure, and a 
cinque-pace : the first suit is hot and hasty, 
like a Scotch jig, and full as fantastical ; the 
wedding, mannerly-modest, as a measure full of 
state and ancientry ; and then comes repentance, 
and, with his bad legs, falls into the cinque-pace 
faster and faster, till he sink into his grave. 

MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING, A. 2, S. 1. 



WORLDLY INEXPERIENCE ;— ITS 
DISADVANTAGES. 

What should we speak of, 
When we are old as you ? when we shall hear 
The rain and wind beat dark December, how, 
In this our pinching cave, shall we discourse 
The freezing hours away ? We have seen 

nothing ; 
We are beastly ; subtle as the fox, for prey ; 
Like warlike as the wolf, for what we eat : 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 643 

Our valour is, to chase what flies ; our cage 
We make a quire, as doth the prison' d bird, 
And sing our bondage freely. 

CYMBELINE, A. 3, S. 3. 



WRETCHED POSITION. 

This it is to have a name in great men's fel- 
lowship : I had as lief have a reed that will do 
me no service, as a partizan I could not heave. 
To be called into a huge sphere, and not to be 
seen to move in't, are the holes where eyes 
should be, which pitifully disaster the cheeks. 

ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA, A. 2, S. 7. 



WRINKLED SMILES. 

Sobeow, that is couch' d in seeming gladness, 
Is like that mirth fate turns to sudden sadness. 

TROILUS AND CRESSIDA, A. 1, S. 1. 



YOU MUST KEEP YOUR OWN 

SECRETS. 

Is your man secret ? Did you ne'er hear say- 
Two may keep counsel, putting one away ? 

ROMEO AND JULIET, A. 2, S. 4. 



London : 
J. & W. Eideb, Printers, 14, Bartholomew Close. 



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